LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chai).LO.Topyright No 

Shelf.i!i..'g.57 H J 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



HOME SONGS 



CHRONICLES of THE ELLIS 



/ 
LUCRETIA T. HOWE 



PRINTED BY 

RUMFORD FALLS PUBLISHING CO. 

RuMFORD Falls, Maine 

1899 

L 



Two 









5l;364 



Copyright, 1899, 

BY 

Ll'CRETIA T. HOWE. 



8£C0ND OOPV, 

SiU£.4-."*3'=i. 



I Dedicate this little Book 

To all who bear our name, 
And pray heaven's richest blessing may 

Descend upon the same. 

And while another century rolls 

Along this valley fair, 
May sweeter songs than ours arise 

Upon the evening air. 

And may we ever cherish those 
We knew in childhood's days. 

And in this book their deeds record 
In humble songs of praise. 



CONTEINTS. 





Page 


The Old House, 


I 


My Grandfather's Clock, 


2 


My Brook, .... 


4 


A Spring Song, .... 


6 


An August Day, 


7 


The Chronicles of the Ellis, 


7 


A Song to Summer, 


17 


Decoration Day, 


i8 


The Old Red Cradle, 


i8 


The Everlasting Hills, 


21 


The Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. 




N. W. Elliott, 


22 


A Birthday Offering, 


25 


My Birthday, .... 


27 


The First Robin, 


30 


Children's Day, 


30 


Easter Lilies, 


32 


Children's Day and Harvest Concert, 


33 


Children's Day, 


35 


Easter Song, .... 


37 


A Fourth July Hymn, 


39 


For the Children, 


40 



In Memoriam, . . . .41 

She Rests, . . . . 42 

"He Giveth His Beloved Sleep," . . 42 

She Was Young to Die, . . 43 
Lines on the Death of Mrs. Y. A. 

Thurston, .... 44 
Lines on the Death of Mr. Charles 

Proctor, and daughter, Roberta, . 46 

On Visiting the Old Home, . , 47 

A Greeting for the C. E. Convention, . 48 

Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. Mary Ford, 49 
Silver Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. J. K. 

Elliott, . . . . 51 

Reception given B. C. Wood, . . 52 

Decoration Day, ... 55 

The Message, . . . -57 

Christmas at J. K. Elliott's, . . 58 

A Christmas Carol, .... 60 

A Christmas Carol, ... 62 

The Grange Dinner, . . .65 

Memorial Day, ... 69 

In Memory of Rev. John Elliott, . . 70 

In Memory of Mrs. J. H. Rawson, . 71 

The Ninety-second Birthday, . . 72 

In Memory of Miss Sarah P. Abbott, . 73 



Uedication of the Church, • • • 75 

Happy Greeting, ... 76 
Ninetieth Birthday of Mrs. Marcia 

Smith Stevens, ... 78 
An Easter Offering, . . . . 80 
Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. W. 

A. Johnson, . , . 81 
Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. J. A. 

Metcalf, .... 84 

Memorial Day at Forest Hills, . . 85 

The Old Churchyard, ... 86 

A Golden Wedding, ... 88 

The River Mascoma, . . . gi 

A Tribute to Bethel, ... 92 

The Golden Wedding, ... 94 

The Bethel Church Centennial, . 95 

A Birthday Sonnet, ... 97 

Birthday Greeting, ... 97 

Installation of the Pilgrim Fathers, . 99 

Evergreen Cemetery, Westbrook, Me., loi 

Maine General Hospital, . . . 103 
The Eighty-fifth Birthday of Jedediah 

Kimball, . . . .107 

Tribute to Neal Dow, . . . 11 1 
The Old Butternut Tree, . . .113 



Going Home, . . . . 114 

Lines for a Friend's Fiftieth Birthday, . 115 

A Song to Minnesota, . . . 116 

The City of Lincoln, Neb., . . 118 

Winter Scenes, . . . . 119 

Free Journeys Around the World, . . 121 
Lines on Presenting a Watch to Rev. 

William Hyde, . . . .124 

Friend Amy's Home, . . . 125 

In Remembrance of Baby Amy Chessman, 126 

In Memoriam, . . . . 127 

Visit of Miss Annie Stockbridge, . . 127 

The Old Home at Andover, . . 129 
The Golden Wedding of Mr. and Mrs. 

N. S. Lufkin, . . , 130 

She is not Dead, but Sleepeth, . . 134 

Wedding Bells, .... 135 
A Wedding Chime, .... 136 

The Fortieth Wedding Anniversary, . 137 
The Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. H. M. 

Abbott, . . . .138 

Tribute to Sullivan R. Hutchins, . 140 

A Fireside Reverie, . . . . 141 

Evening, .... 141 
The Picnic, ..... 142 
xiv. 



Rumford Grange Field Day, . . 145 

A Fourth of July Oration, . . .147 

A Random Shot, . . . 151 

Ellis River Literary Union, . . 153 

The Closing Session of the Literary Union, 155 

Oration at Hutchins' Grove, . . 156 

Thanksgiving Day, . . . .160 



THE OLD HOUSE. 

THE old House stands where it long has stood, 
For eighty years or more; 
The pride and joy of my grandparents' hearts, 
In the happy days of yore. 

And from the old House they went softly out, 

And left wide an open door. 
That all their dear children might follow on. 

And reach the other shore. 

Their children lived near and toiled among 

These hills and valleys fair, 
And peace and plenty seemed to smile 

Around them everywhere. 

The old House became my dear father's care. 

The only child born to them here. 
Where he spent his long and eventful life, 

'Till past his forescore year. 

And here he brought his fair young bride. 

And labored many a day; 
And a group of merry children were seen 

About the old House at play. 



2 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

We can never forget their fortitude, 

In the days and years gone by; 
Heaven grant their confidence may be ours, 

To cheer life's evening sky. 

"They have finished their course and kept the faith," 

And passed out by the open door. 
Though we may watch for them many a day. 

They will never return to us more. 



MY GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK. 

Ellis River, 1896. 

GRANDFATHER'S old clock stands stately and 
still, 
In the ancestral halls of famed Orchard Hill, 
Where he set it a ticking a long time ago, 
For he lived here and died here, as some of you 
know. 

Grandfather moved here and cleared up his farm, 
Put up a snug house, a workshop and barn, 
And added slowly to his income and stock, 
And to bring things to time bought a nice wooden 
clock. 

Grandfather's old clock tick-ticked along. 
And his boys and girls grew sturdy and strong; 
The sons settled down with their sweet young brides. 
And cleared up farms by the fair Ellis' sides. 



My Grandfather'' s Clock. 3 

And here they toiled on for many a year, 

Adding acres and children life's rough ways to cheer, 

And the clock ticked away the golden hours. 

While the valleys bloomed with sweet spring flowers. 

The daughters married and moved away, 
According to fashions of that early day; 
In their humble homes they dwelt content, 
With commonplace duties their lives were spent. 

Their children spread out to every shore, 
And many, alas! will return no more; 
We shall long remember with love and pride, 
Those large households by the Ellis' side. 

My dear, dear old Grandfather I never saw. 
He had several years crossed over the bar 
Where they never need clocks to measure the time, 
Nor yet hands to point out its glories sublime. 

Life's pendulum here swung on to its close, 
Ticking out its full weights of joys and of woes, 
Running its daily lines in this pleasant place, 
With a happy, contented, smiling face. 

In the course of time Grandfather was laid 
To sleep his last sleep in summer's sweet shade; 
But the clock ticked on by night and by day, 
Telling us the years were fast passing away. 

Grandfather's children have all found their rest 
With their toil worn hands folded over their breast, 
But we, their children, will long revere 
And cherish their memories year after year. 



4 Home Sofigs and Chrofiicles of the Ellis. 

The old clock too, thinks its life work o'er, 
And will not condescend to tell the time more; 
And awaits with the fathers the glorious hour. 
Of a Master-builder's skill and power. 

Grandfather's old clock will alw'ays remain 
A fine work of art, worthy its ancient name; 
And long will its striking appeals touch the heart, 
And its faithful message, you too must depart. 

The next time you call around at Orchard Hill, 
You will see the old clock standing solemn and still; 
It's hands spread over it's time-worn face. 
With an eager, expressive, old fashioned grace; 
Its pendulum silent, awaiting still, 
A master hand with its cunning skill. 



MY BROOK. 

vNCE on a time a rill set out 

From its mountain home to look about. 
With a happy face it ran away, 
Singing its song by night and day. 

It never stopped in its earnest quest, 
To search for happiness or rest. 
Sometime, 'tis true 'twould meander along, 
But always singing a joyous song. 

Sometime it would dance o'er its pebbly way, 

But would never stop to idle or to play. 

It enjoyed a leap or a pretty fall. 

Or a daring run by the mountain wall. 



My Brook. 

The trees bent down surprised to see 
From whence its source of joy could be; 
And all the wild flowers on the way 
Would smile to see its ripples gay. 

The happy bird would sit and sing 
Beside the rill in early spring, 
And call its mate to come and stay 
And build their nest in balmy May. 

And other rills came tumbling down 
The mountain side only to drown 
Themselves within this happy rill 
Whose course was ever onward still. 

It rippled o'er the meadows too, 
Because it loved some good to do, 
And gained such favor that it took 
Unto itself the name of brook. 

In its deep nooks the fishes fly 
When prowling fishermen come nigh; 
The cattle on a thousand hills 
Would slake their thirst at its pure rills. 

The horses and the sheep would run 
To its cool shade in midday sun. 
Upon its bank a mill was set, 
Whose battered frame is standing yet. 

At length it grew so very wide 

A bridge was laid from side to side. 

And so it ran year after year, 

A thing of life and love and cheer. 



Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

And here we idly stand and sigh, 

And turn away and say good bye; 

The Ellis takes it to its heart 

Saying, "My dear child we'll never part." 



A SPRING SONG. 

To The Ellis River, 1896. 

LOVELY Ellis, awake from your slumbers 

And tell us what fancies your dreaming may 
bring. 
Awake, awake, burst the fetters that bind thee, 
Already I see a faint dawning of Spring. 

O lovely Ellis, we long to behold thee. 

Your bright happy face can make our hearts light, 
And the pleasant sound of your rippling laughter 

Can awaken the wind-flower and violets bright. 

O lovely Ellis, the trees bending o'er thee. 

Are waving their branches, dark, sullen and shrill; 

Awaken, and clothe them again in new beauty. 
That we may rejoice in thy loveliness still. 

O lovely Ellis, roll on to the ocean, 

And lovingly smile on all by the wa}^; 
With our mountains and valleys we cannot forget 

thee. 
For like thy bright waters we are hastening away. 



Afi August Day. 7 

AN AUGUST DAY. 

AT early morning when I walk abroad 
And contemplate the wondrous works of God; 
Watch the mists rise and calmly float away, 
I hail with new delight the opening day. 

When midday sun the vast creation fills 

With light and heat, o'ershadowing vales and hills; 

I rest me in the shadows by the way, 

Beholding still the wonders of the day. 

When evening's long drawn shadows earthward tend, 
And all earth's poor, tired laborers homeward wend. 
The sun sinks slowly down with purple ray, 
Reflecting still the glories of the day. 



THE CHRONICLES OF THE ELLIS. 

Feb. 13, 1899. 

I WONDER where my schoolmates are who fifty 
years ago, 

Walked over these old winding roads thro" winter's 
drifts and snow; 

Laughing and chatting gaily in homespun blue or 
brown. 

Who hardly ever lost a day though tempests raged 
around. 

I often get to thinking of the days of long ago. 

And ask where all my schoolmates are; does any- 
body know? 



8 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Where are the Perry girls and boys, Sarah, George 

and Caroline, 
Silvanus Poor and Christopher and Lewis down the 

line; 
Where's Betsy Hutchins, Enoch, with his jewsharp 

and his song 
Of "Two Burnt Holes in a Blanket," that cheered 

the noontime on. 
Where are David Hutchins' family of laughing girls 

and boys 
Who lived along the Ellis and shared its simple joys; 
There were Enos, Lucy, Mary, Lydia, Lucinda, Jacob 

and Sarah too. 
While cousin Joel, Nancy Swan, Asa Boyden rise in 

view. 
And several others by that name in days long passed 

away. 
Are numbered with my schoolmates; where are they 

all today? 

Where are Eben Abbott's family, Matilda and 

Sophia, 
Who used to gather with us around the blazing fire, 
And Nelson and Barzillai, and Charles the younger 

son. 
Attended school in those old days and added to the 

fun. 

Where are Hazen Abbott's girls and boys who lived 

beside the brook. 
And told us many a fish story they caught by line 

and hook; 



The Chronicles of the Ellis. g 

Where's Dolly, Susan, Hannah, Marshall and Lucet- 

ta Ann, 
Who joined in all our country sports and mischief 

helped to plan; 
And Henry Martin, in his prime, used to the school 

declaim, 
"Pity the Sorrows of a Poor Old Man," winning 

applause and fame. 

Where are the John Howe boys and girls who lived 

next house below, 
They used to number six or seven, why, don't you 

think it's so! 
Charles Barker and Elizabeth, Asa, Rufus, Horace, 

John, 
And Charlotte and Lucinda, Nancy Ellen, the fairest 

one; 
And Rufus, strong and steady, was never known to 

fail 
Of being the last one on the road carrying the din- 
ner pail; 
But oh, the turnovers and cheese and doughnuts 

were so fine, 
I wish someone would have the same and ask me out 

to dine. 

And who can tell how many from the house hard by 
the school, 

Were added to our numbers, helping out each teach- 
er's rule; 

The Whittemores, the Moores, Chases, Elliotts, An- 
drews, who can tell 

How many used to gather around the olden well. 



10 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

I wonder if my schoolmates think of those old scenes 

today, 
While these lovely hills and valleys re-echo, "Where 

are they?" 

And where is Uncle Calvin Howe and his old red 

pung sleigh, 
He used to gather quite a load driving along the 

way; 
With Frances and Mark Trafton, Lucretia, Julia, 

Clare, 
And Emma, Jane and younger ones, plenty of room 

to spare; 
And if they got tipped over they called it lots of fun, 
And picked themselves all up again and av/ay the 

colts would run. 

Where are the Jefif Howard girls and boys, Humph- 
rey, Elias, Tom, 

And Huldah and Orinthia, Charles, Rodney F. and 
John; 

And where are Allen Segar's folks, Amos, Milton, 
Mary and Dana B., 

Who often were disgusted with the teachers, don't 
you see? 

And where is Janey Farnum so pleasant and so fair. 

With eyes so blue and tender and pretty golden hair. 

Where are the John Rolfe girls and boys who lived 

upon the hill. 
Many of us remember how large a place they would 

fill; 



The Chronicles of the Ellis. ii 

As teachers and as scholars they served their district 

well, 
And of the pleasant times held there you must have 

heard one tell; 
Where's Ruth, Henry, John, and Hannah, Clara and 

Oscar D., 
While Carter, Moody, Betsey and Hannah taught us 

our A. B. C. 



Where are the Jacob Elliott boys who came from 

Pembroke here. 
And bought the Joel Howe old farm, growing richer 

every year; 
Kittridge and John Emery, and Matthew were in the 

the olden schools. 
And oft declaimed "The Three Black Crows" and 

"Forty Old Maid Fools," 
Who went to an auction and bid off forty old worthy 

Bach's, 
And carried them safe to their homes upon their 

slender backs. 



Where's Timothy Holt's girls and boys who lived 

way down below, 
Webster and Scott and Chauncey, David, William, 

Hannah, Chloe, 
And cousin Newton, Emily, Henry and Cordelia 

Stearns; 
And pretty Alice Waterhouse to whom my memory 

turns; 



12 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Where's Mariam and Charles H. Rolfe with cheeks 

red as the rose, 
On any blustering morning in winter's frost and 

snows. 

What has become of Aurora Black and where is 

Irene Keech, 
She used to have a sparkling eye, cheeks mellow as 

a peach; 
Where's William Foye and William Brown and Ben- 
jamin P. Snow, 
The girls all called him "Wonderful" some fifty years 

ago. 
Where's Lydia Frost and Lucy, and where is Emma 

Ann, 
Who "On the mountain top would sing, Lo the 

sacred heralds stand." 
These girls and boys passed in and out of our old 

district school, 
And after such accomplishment were qualified to 

rule. 

Where are the old schoolmasters who taught us in 

those days. 
And merited the gratitude as well as honest praise 
Of all the parents who were bound to have some 

wholesome rule. 
Nor spare the rod to spoil the child attending district 

school. 

We remember with much pleasure our old teacher, 

Alden Chase, 
Who by his wit and wisdom came off conquerer in 

this place; 



2Vic Chronicles of the Ellis. ij 

With a host of foes to battle, sagacious, strong and 

sage. 
Gaining a lasting victory at eighteen years of age. 

Where's mighty Mihill Mason who straightened out 

the school, 
When other methods seem to fail, took up his big 

ferule; 
And I am very certain we found out he had a way 
Of keeping law and order and catching rogues at 

play. 

And Benjamin F. Hutchins taught our school two 

winters more; 
We had to mind our P's and Q's or else stand in the 

floor; 
And when we cut up very bad he'd sit us with the 

boys, 
Not thinking we esteemed it one of our greatest joys. 

And Moody Rolfe taught us right well by wise and 

stable rule. 
And every one felt at the close a pleasant winter's 

school; 
And William Elliott wisely taught by methods new 

and old. 
That knowledge was a powerful thing worth more to 

us than gold; 
I've often heard my father say, and think he ought 

to know. 
He kept a model country school some fifty years ago. 



14 Home Songs and Chro7iicles of the Ellis. 

Two winters in succession we had Francis Cushman 
Buck, 

Teaching with him was a hobby, he seemed to have 
the luck 

Of gaining both the good will of parents and schol- 
ars too; 

But pleasant seasons have an end, we had to say 
adieu. 

There came to us one Arthur Brown, a pleasant smil- 
ing man. 

We found in him a teacher kind, he had us under- 
stand 

That reading, writing, spelling, was the best work we 
could do, 

And figure our own problems and paddle our own 
canoe. 



What's become of H. N. Bolster who came up from 
the Cape, 

I think he taught but five whole days then made 
good his escape; 

And though we begged of him to stay and promised 
fair to be 

A worthy set of scholars; stay with us, no, not he. 

But turned his back upon the town with all its prom- 
ised joys 

For just the simple reason, those strapping girls and 
boys. 



The Chronicles of the Ellis. /j- 

Where are our old Schoolmistresses who used to board 

around, 
I think the most of them would say much pleasure 

they then found, 
Among the numerous families the Ellis used to grow, 
And long referred to those old times of fifty years 

ago. 

Where's Thirza Chapman, Mary Wight and Julia 

Ann Dudley, 
And Hannah Martin, Betsey Rolfe, Miss Sarah 

Prince of B,, 
And Susan Abbott, Hannah Rolfe and many more 

are they. 
Whose very names are household words e'en to the 

present day. 

Our summer or our winter schools, I know not 

which were best. 
We used to have such happy times when hunting for 

bird's nests, 
And climbing over fences for berries or for flowers. 
Or playing in the sparkling brooks heeding not the 

flying hours; 
And then again in winter's time, we had such keen 

delight. 
Both claim an equal share of praise, with me each 

one were bright. 

If we'd had half those gimcracks taught as in our 

schools today. 
Each boy had made a president, each girl a lady gay; 



l6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

So many odds against us while running in the race, 
I think we all did fairly well to come off common- 
place; 

And could you call each one by name I think they'd 

let you know 

That life was worth the living some fifty years ago. 

What's become of the old schoolhouse that seemed 

just in its prime, 
That holds so much of pleasure through all this 

lapse of time; 
It's noble line of Teachers and Scholars holds us yet, 
Though we may never meet again we would not one 

forget; 
And I feel sad to tell you, don't call it, friends, a 

joke. 
Just fifty years ago this spring the old house went 

up in smoke. 
But the influence it exerted here will never pass 

away, 
It's teachings may have followed some, kept others 

in the way; 
Those girls and boys have learned we trust, to meet 

life's joys and ills, 
While toiling on their pilgrimage toward the sunset 

hills. 
And when I turn to those old scenes as I run to and 

fro, 
I wonder where the time has flown since fifty years 

ago. 



A Song to Sujiimcr. ly 

A SONG TO SUMMER. 

For the Ellis, Aug. 25, '95. 
EAUTIFUL Summer, canst thou not stay? 
Why dost thou hasten so quickly away; 
Did we not hold thee fond to our heart? 
Are we not grieving with thee to part? 

Beautiful Summer, stay with us, Oh stay; 
Lovingly linger we fervently pray, 
Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. 

Beautiful Summer, refreshing thy showers; 
Green are thy meadows, fragrant thy flowers. 
Fair are thy footsteps, hastening away, 
Fairest of seasons — canst thou not stay? 

Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; 

Lovingly linger, we fervently pray, 

Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. 

Beautiful Summer, thy lessons w-e heed. 
No one is waiting to bid thee God speed; 
Thanks for thy favors of sunshine and showers, 
Thanks for thy mercies these sweet summer hours. 

Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; 

Lovingly linger, we fervently pray, 

Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. 

Beautiful Summer, fond memory will keep 
Treasures of thee as the years onward sweep; 
Pictures of mountain, river and sky, 
Visions of earth scenes too lovely to die. 

Beautiful Summer, stay with us. Oh stay; 

Lovingly linger, we fervently pray. 

Beautiful Summer, Oh stay. 



i8 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

DECORATION DAY. 

i883. 

HOW many since last Decoration Day, 
Have borne a comrade or a friend away, 
And with the fragrant blossoms laid them low, 
Or made their bed beneath the fleecy snow. 

Some have been gathered like a shock of corn, 
Others cut down in life's bright joyous morn; 
Palace and cot alike have been bereft, 
There is no royal road for thee, O Death. 

We scatter o'er their graves the fairest flowers, 
A fitting emblem of this life of ours, 
Where roses bloom and wither in a day, 
And all that's mortal soon will pass away. 

Teach us, Oh Father, that we may resign 
Our every purpose to thy will divine; 
We know not who may go or who may stay. 
Or on whose grave our flowers may rest 
Next Decoration Day. 



THE OLD RED CRADLE. 

For the Ellis, 1897. 

FOR forty odd years the old red cradle 
Was stored in the garret at Orchard Hill; 
What to do with it seemed the vexed problem. 
What further use could a cradle fulfill. 



The Old Red Cradle. ig 

How proud must the parents have been with the first 
born, 

To build her a cradle of such ample size; 
But as time rolled along they found it were needful, 

For the family broadened with wondrous surprise. 

Oh, bright were the days when the dear old cradle 
Rocked fair daughters and sons from morn until 
eve; 
Except mother's arms the very best refuge, 

From the great host of troubles which little ones 
grieve. 

The cradle would well hold three or four children. 
And away they would rock now high and now low, 

Till the speed ran beyond the wisdom of childhood, 
When all of a sudden over they'd go. 

Oh the happiest days are the days of our childhood. 
With parents and sisters and brothers and friends; 

Not all of the gold of our far famed Alaska, 
Can for the loss of such gifts make amends. 

The parents that rocked it had gone to that country, 
From whose happy bourn no travelers return; 

And the old house is growing silent and lonely. 
For the fires on its hearthstone but dimly burn. 

The children had drifted out of the household, 

To seek their good fortunes or homes of their own; 

But the cradle was left high and dry in the garret. 
Battered and empty with the cobwebs alone. 



20 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The grandchildren stretching away in the distance, 
Despised the red cradle with its old fashioned 
grace, 

And all with one voice exclaimed, burn it, oh, burn it, 
I wouldn't give it the ghost of a place. 

Could any one bear to see an old cradle 
Go up in the flames by wanton hands set? 

I pray you desist for hearts may be aching, 

As they think of the old days with tears of regret. 

So we brought the old cradle down from it's hiding, 
And filled it with richest of earthly clays. 

And planted the fairest, sweetest of flowers. 

That bud and bloom all the long summer days. 

And there, should you drive up the lovely Ellis, 
And note each charming spot by the way, 

You would see the old cradle rocking, rocking 
The flowers to sleep at the close of day. 

And I sometimes think when our work is ended, 
And the shadows gather o'er hill and plain; 

It were sweet to feel the trust of childhood 
And be tenderly rocked to our sleep again. 



The Everlasting Hills. 21 

THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 

Mrs. Gardiner Hoyt's Eightieth Birthday, 

Ellis River, Jan., 1897. 

IT LIFT mine eyes up to the hills today, 

11 And think of earthly friends and kindred dear, 

And watch the shadows gently come and go. 

While toiling on in this, my eightieth year. 
A misty haze is spread before mine eyes, 

As I remember all the happy past. 
And all the pleasant scenes of childhood's days. 

Too bright and beautiful to always last. 

I lift mine eyes up to the hills again. 

And lo, another home is given to me; 
With husband, children and grandchildren, friends — 

While time rolls on to its vinending sea. 
Today I look away to these fair hills, 

And claim the promises found written there; 
And with my faltering steps and fading sight. 

Trust in my Heavenly Father's love and care. 

I lift mine eyes up to the hills for help. 

To guide me in my pilgrimage below; 
He will not suffer that my foot be moved, 

He will not slumber while I softly go. 
The sun shall not smite me by day. 

Nor yet the moon by night. 
The Lord from every evil shall preserve my soul, 

He shall preserve my going out and coming in, 
henceforth. 
While days and months and years shall o'er me roll. 



22 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

So shall I walk in safety every day, 
Keeping mine eyes upon the heavenly hills; 

Claiming these promises as wholly mine, 
Not as I will, but as the dear Lord wills. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. 
N. W. ELLIOTT. 

Lydia Carter, Rum ford. 

Ellis River, Oct. 4TH, 1893. 

THE leaves are growing red and gold 
Upon the maple trees; 
A gentle sighing seems to come 
Along the autumn's breeze. 

They whisper of departed days, 

Of bright and joyous spring. 
When everything seemed glad and free 

As birds upon the wing. 

We see a maiden young and fair. 

Stand by a flowing stream, 
Who looks with wonder on the scene, 

As in a pleasing dream. 

She hears a step beside the stream, 

A gallant, brave and bold. 
Who tells her in his happiest way 

A story new, yet old. 



I'he Golden Wedding. 

She listens — smiles, and soon we see 
Them walking hand in hand; 

Adown the rolling stream of time, 
Which seems enchanted land. 

Yet not alone, voices we hear 
Of children young and fair, 

And oft their merry, merry shout 
Would rise upon the air. 

The stream grows wider than at first, 

The trees are older grown; 
And still the gallant youth and maid 

Are slowly journeying on. 

They pass the Silver Bridge with care. 
Still hand in hand they go; 

Still watch the scenes upon the shores, 
That cheered them long ago. 

The Spring that once seemed very fair, 
Gives place to Summer time. 

And o'er their senses steals the truth. 
They are not in their prime. 

Voices that cheered them all the day. 
Have nearly all grown still; 

They hope to hear each voice again. 
And bow to Heaven's blest will. 

They follow still the winding stream, 
With all its changing ways, 



24 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Still walking ever side by side 
As in the olden days. 

They pause today at the Golden Bridge, 

That was fifty years away 
When a lover bold and a winsome maid 

Plighted their faith that day. 

And see! They are walking hand in hand, 

As in all the happy past; 
The way has grown lone, the stream grown 
deep. 

And shadows are backward cast. 

The friends of youth are passing away. 

The circle grows less every year; 
They send you kindest regards today, 

If they cannot be with you here. 

They know your way leads Heavenward, 
And the Golden Bridge no dream; 

And you have no fears in crossing o'er 
This wonderful, wonderful stream. 

We hope to see you many more years, 
Pass along hand in hand as of yore; 

Before the pale boatman shall call unto you 
To come out from your own cottage door. 

Then take our good wishes and happy be 
With what the Dear Lord has in store; 

And may this Golden Wedding Day prove 
His faithful love to you evermore. 



A Birthday Offering. 25 

A BIRTHDAY OFFERING. 
To Our Friend, Mrs. M. J. Carter, Lawrence, Mass. 
Ellis River, Sept. 27, 1899. 

MY beautiful, beautiful Summer 
Is hurrying away, 
I can count the days that are left me 

On my right hand today; 
Count the days and say where have they flown, 
Since beautiful Spring-time came smiling along 
With her leaves and buds and blooms so sweet, 
And her creeping grass for my dainty feet. 
Oh, where have you gone with all your train, 
Shall I never behold your beauties again? 

My beautiful, beautiful Summer, 

No hour to me is lost; 
In memory are treasures fondly stored, 

Worth more than the simple cost, 
Of field and meadow, rocks, trees and hills, 
And the countless beauties one's vision fills. 
As the sunlight lingers over the place, 
And adds to each one a tender grace. 
And the grand old mountains bow low and say, 
"I wish you much joy on this happy day." 

My beautiful, beautiful Summer, 

Were my others just as fair 
With gentle Spring-time's lovely reign. 

And sweet enchanted air; 
With Summer days of pure delight. 
The songs of birds both day and night. 



26 Home Songs a?ii/ Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The lovely drives along the way 
Where our own Ellis holds full sway, 
And beckons you with hook and line 
To catch a fish at any time, 
And gather up the fairest flowers 
To cheer you in the wintry hours. 

My beautiful, beautiful Summer 

Brings home to me alway 
An added year to my strict account; 

Life is not always May. 
I've seen sweet Spring and youth go by. 
With all my dear ones hovering nigh, 
'Till now I count my seventy years — 
How short a space my life appears. 
Set down to me three score and ten; 
Let me recount my mercies, when 
I take a backward glance and see 
How my dear Lord is leading me. 

This beautiful, beautiful Summer, 

We bring our wishes true; 
And on this happy birthday 

Our friendships we renew. 
We love to have you with us, 
Your presence gives good cheer; 
God bless and keep and bring you 
Safe to our hearts next year; 
Our simple gifts are love, good will. 
To follow you along, until 
You reach life's golden sunset, where 
The friends you love may freely share 
The Heavenly peace and joy and rest, 
Knowing our Father's ways are best. 



My Birthday. 27 

MY BIRTHDAY. 

^N February, the 13th, 1893, 

A great event dropped down upon me, 
I celebrated my sixtieth birthday 
In my own unique, original way. 

I invited my sisters from far and near, 
And brothers to come and partake of the cheer, 
And all my first cousins drew up in a line 
To help me enjoy this birthday of mine. 

From the very first start I had my own way, 
Not a great thing I fancy for one little day. 
And through all the racket I had my sweet will, 
As well as the pleasure of paying the bill. 

The pleasure, you say, can hardly mean that; 
I think you will find the allusion quite pat. 
For I was brought up to pay as you go, 
If you have to cut down the expense of the show. 

Outside was a typical winter's day, 
Frosty with sunshine turning to gray; 
Inside you could sing another tune. 
For it seemed as fair as a day in June. 

A fire burned bright on the kitchen hearth. 
Where in olden time we held revel and mirth, 
And everyone seemed at their very best. 
And happily welcomed each coming guest. 



28 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The table was laid in due time with much skill, 

The dinner, though simple, three courses would fill, 

And when we were all invited to dine. 

After listening to grace we sang Auld Lang Syne. 

We ate and drank with hearty cheer, 
Some said they wished birthdays came twice a year 
When the three birthday cakes and sauces and pies 
Burst forth on the vision with wondrous surprise. 

We cracked nuts, and cracked jokes with old time fun. 
And we also considered ourselves fair and young, 
And would you believe when we brought the dessert 
Some matronly matrons attempted to flirt. 

But I brought them up short with a wave of my hand. 
And said, "My good friends you will please under- 
stand 
That I am not yet laid upon the shelf. 
If there must needs be fiirting, I'll do it myself. 

Allow me, dear friends, to make some little sign 
That you may remember this birthday of mine; 
Will the gentlemen present accept a clay pipe. 
And these lady friends a handkerchief white. 

And if your attention you now give to me, 
I will set in array that you may all see 
The many nice gifts that grew by the hour 
And filled a large table in my lady's bower. 



My Birthday. 2g 

Some you may remember, others sooner forget, 
The perfume of some in our mind lingers yet. 
Especially Evangeline, whose long search for a lover 
Is enjoyed by all true friends the wide world over. 

The fruit plates, vase, bon bons, all have a place, 
And a milk set my old fashioned table will grace. 
When I shall grow old and alas have to eat 
With a trembling hand — but why here repeat. 

The poems all told me, though guarded with care, 
I was still growing older and must be aware 
That sooner or later these bright hours would flee 
And leave me a clinging to the old ancestral tree." 

And so the hours went and with smiles on our face 
We lingered around the old fire place, 
And talked of the hopes and years gone by 
Till the hour of parting seemed drawing nigh. 

I tried to impress it on all their warm hearts. 

That for these happy hours they had all done their 

parts. 
And I hoped to meet them all often again. 
And join with them in some olden refrain. 

The day seemed too short, and the sun going fast 
When we gave our dear friends a warm handclasp, 
And said, "God bless you," as they drove slowly 

away, 
I will see you again on my ninetieth birthday. 



JO Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

THE FIRST ROBIN. 

^AY after day I have heard the dear robins, 
Singing their songs in the orchard trees; 
Morning and evening their soft notes were calling, 
Or melting away with the passing breeze. 

Early this morning upon a high treetop, 
The first pretty robin I cunningly spied. 

His red breast was bathed in the glittering sunlight, 
And his happiest song for my pleasure he tried. 

Oh, robin, sweet robin, I cried out, delighted, 

Stay with us and cheer us with presence and song. 

And build your snug nest in some sheltering treetop, 
And dwell with your mate while the days roll 
along. 



CHILDREN'S DAY. 

D. S. HiBBERD, Student from Kansas. 

Ellis River, June 17, 1894. 

TIN many towns and cities far and near, 

11 The children have one Sunday in the year. 

And while the summer days return again 

We meet to hold our very first. 

Way down in Rumford, Maine. 

Along the Ellis river, oh, how fair. 
The perfume of our wild flowers fill the air. 
The voices of the children low and sweet 
Blend in the song and praises we repeat. 



Children'' s Day. J I 

We thank our Heavenly Father for this day, 
And humbly ask His guidance all the way, 
We know not how to guide their feeble steps, 
But in the Book of Life His word directs. 

It may be possible our teacher here 
Has given us Children's Day for many a year, 
And while these faces with new pleasures glow ; 
June, with its roses, has no fairer show. 

A little effort, often, makes them gay 
And merry as a cricket all the day; 
Sometimes their words of wisdom us confound, 
When some perplexing question hovers round. 

We want today our very happiest songs 

And all good things which to the hour belongs. 

The brightest, sweetest flowers from woodland bowers, 

The kindest wishes of these hearts of ours. 

We hope some tiny seed may take deep root, 
Some tree be pruned to bear abundant fruit. 
That, as the years along our path may roll, 
The sheaves brought in may yield a hundred fold. 

If Sheba's Queen should haply pass this way. 
And see our Children's Sunday's first display, 
Would she not say the half was never told. 
When she beheld our flowers of shining gold. 

This happy day, oh, who would count it lost? 
Is it not worthy all the toil and cost? 
Onward and upward may it lead the way. 
And bring us nearer to the perfect day. 



J 2 Home So7igs afid Chronicles of the Ellis. 

We hope that everyone present to-day 
Some timely word may hear, and bear away 
A few live thoughts that may return again, 
May spring up broadcast, everywhere, 
From Kansas down to Maine. 



EASTER LILIES. 

Written for the Ellis, 1897. 

EASTER Lilies bud and bloom 
Close beside the empty tomb, 
Where an angel clothed in white 
Watches through the silent night. 
While they waited round with fear. 
While the women lingered near. 
"Fear not ye," the angel said, 
"He is risen from the dead; 
See, the stone is rolled awaj'. 
Come and see where the Lord lay." 
And the joyful song. Oh hear, 
He is risen — he is not here — 
He goeth before into Galilee, 
Follow on your Lord to see; 
He will meet you by the way, 
Worship at His feet today, 
Let your hearts be comforted. 
He is risen from the dead. 

Easter Lilies, bloom today. 
Let your perfume float away 
On the Easter morning air 
Like a sacrificial prayer. 



Childreii's Day and Harvest Concert. jj 

While we gather round the place 
To behold his smiling face, 
Hear them tell again He's risen 
And ascended into Heaven 
To His Father and our own, 
And before His gracious throne 
Pleads today for you and me, 
By the cross of Calvary. 
Dry your tear, lift up your eyes, 
Christ hath entered Paradise. 
Fairer than the lilies fair 
Are the crowns His followers wear, 
And today His triumph sing, 
He is risen, our Lord and King. 



CHILDREN'S DAY AND HARVEST 
CONCERT. 

Presenting a Vase with Flowers to J. B. Lyman, 
Student. 

Ellis River, Sept. 3, 1899. 

KEEP your vase filled with flowers as you journey 
along, 

That its fragrance may cheer you like som.e hallowed 
song; 

May their bright colors blend like the signal rain- 
bow, 

And the language they speak set your heart all 
aglow. 

Keep your vase filled with flowers, should the morn- 
ing look gray. 



J4 Ho7ne Son^^s and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

They will help drive dull care and sadness away; 
At all times or seasons should they fail to please, 
One resort is still waiting unlocked by Golden Keys. 

Keep your vase filled with flowers, time runs on to 

high noon. 
Life's bright golden morning flies away all too soon; 
And we falter and shrink and exclaim, Hitherto, 
And with renewed courage our journey pursue. 
Keep your vase filled with flowers, when the sun's 

lingering ray 
Falls over the world at the close of the day. 
Like the fragrance of flowers, its radiant light 
Lifts the heart up to God on the wings of the night. 

Keep your vase filled with flowers, you always may 

wear 
The Roses of Sharon wherever 3^our are; 
And the lilies in valleys with perfume most sweet, 
You may lay with life's trophies at the dear Master's 

feet. 
Keep your vase filled with flowers, Summer days will 

run by; 
You will seek other lands and perchance fairer sky, 
And the vales of the Ellis fade slowly from sight, 
Like the mist on the mountains in the sun's glorious 

lisht. 



Children's Day. jj 

CHILDREN'S DAY. 

At Ellis River, August 2, 1896. 

THE hope of the world is the children, 
Give them a happy hour; 
Bring all your brightest, sweetest flowers. 
From every woodland bower. 
And let the fragrance rich and rare 
Float out upon the Summer air. 
And fill this valley with delight. 
And linger on the faces bright 
Of the dear children gathered here, 
Who have been spared another year. 
God grant with us they long may stay. 
To cheer us on our pilgrim way, 
And on this happy day we sing. 
Bring all the little children in, 
For the hope of the world is the children, 
Gather, Oh gather them in. 

The hope of the world is the children. 
Give them your sweetest song, 
And tell them the pleasing story, 
Which to childhood's days belong, 
How the Saviour blessed the children 
As they sat upon his knee. 
Saying, "Let no one forbid them, 
Suffer them to come unto me. 
Whoso would be greatest among you 
Should be as a little child." 
Let us bring them all before Him, 
That they may receive His smile, 



jd Home Songs and Chronic/es of the ElUs. 

That His hand on their head in blessing 

May rest this very day, 

And all these little children 

Bear a happy song away. 

Let us join with them in singing 

Bring all the dear children in, 

For the hope of the world is the children, 

Gather, Oh gather them in. 

A year ago on Children's day, 
A mother stood by the open door 
With her little children by her side; 
She walks with us no more. 
We trust today with angel eyes 
She watches out from Paradise 
And smiles upon her children dear, 
Can we not feel her presence here? 
Can we not hear her gently say 
"Are all the children here today?" 
We miss the sunlight of her face, 
We miss her gentle, quiet grace. 
And bring with love memorial flowers 
To speak her worth in these glad hours. 
And for her dear ones let us pray 
They all be found in wisdom's way. 
And we remember year by year, 
The friends who gathered with us here 
On children's day. Our teachers kind 
Let us today bear them in mind. 
And whether east or west they stray. 
Send them our kind regards today. 
And for the friends and neighbors dear 



Easter Song. jy 

We are glad to see you always here, 

Your kind indulgence leads the way, 

Your presence gives to this glad day. 

Let us once more together sing 

Bring all the little children in. 

For the hope of the world is the children, 

Gather, Oh gather them in. 



EASTER SONG. 

March 25, 1894. 

^HIS Cloth of Gold geranium came to me Christ- 
mas time, 

A gift of wondrous beauty still in its very prime, 
We have all enjoyed its presence through all our 

wintry way. 
And I've bro't it here to smile on you this happy 

Easter Day. 
We trust in every human life there is a Thread of 

Gold, 
Running in lines of beauty with blessings manifold. 
With power to scatter broadcast o'er these rough 

paths of ours, 
The brightness and the fragrance of life's most 

precious flowers. 
Flowers like kind words lift up the heart bowed down 

with grief or care, 
We feel their gentle presence floating upon the air, 
And when we see them budding and bursting into 

bloom, 



j8 Home Songs and Ckro?iicIes of the Ellis. 

They lead us to the garden beside the hallowed 

tomb. 
So when the loved disciples came to weep at break of 

day, 
From the door of the sepulchre the stone was rolled 

away, 
And an angel of the Lord was sitting, watching 

there, 
His countenance like lightning, his raiment white 

and fair. 
The angel answered the women and said to them, 

"Fear not ye, 
I know that ye seek Jesus who was crucified for thee. 
He is not here for He is risen. He from the grave is 

freed; 
And go quickly tell his disciples that He is risen in- 
deed. 
And behold He goeth before you into dear loved 

Galilee, 
And there shall ye all see Him, Lo I have told it 

thee." 
And they departed from the sepulchre with greatest 

joy and fear, 
And did run to bring his disciples word, saying, "Our 

Lord is surely here," 
And as they went to tell the news — behold Jesus met 

them, 
Saying, "All hail," and they came near and stood 

and worshipped Him. 
A lesson we may learn from this resurrection day, 
A dying risen Saviour can make light the darkest 

way, 



A FoM'th yiily Hymn. jg 

We need not go to Galilee to see our risen Lord, 

He is present where but two or three believe His 
gracious word, 

As he did comfort Mary so would He comfort us 

If we like loving Mary, in Him would simply trust. 

But we like doubting Thomas are unwilling to be- 
lieve 

That Christ for us is risen, and so we sit and grieve. 

Let us hope this blessed Easter, like the perfume of 
the flowers. 

May awake to life and beauty these human hearts of 
ours. 



A FOURTH JULY HYMN. 

Written By Request of J. C. Farnham. 

Ellis River, 1891, 

LORD of Hosts! To Thee we pray. 
For blessings on this joyful day; 
Fill every heart with grateful love, 
And peace which cometh from above. 

Wake in each soul a deep desire 
To love and cherish Freedom's fire 
Which burns and glows all o er our land. 
Held by a Father's gracious hand. 

Teach us to feel this land is ours. 
Our thoughts, our purposes and powers 
Should be devoted to its care. 
And all as one its blessings share. 



40 Home Sotigs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

May no false traitor lurk within, 
May we root out each hidden sin, 
And free our land from every stain, 
The drunkard's curse, the power of gain. 

We thank Thee for the hallowed past 
And what the present hour forecasts. 
And for the future trust Thy power 
To keep us in the trying hour. 

Bid sweet contentment come once more 
And rest beside each cottage door. 
And every subject loyal be 
To God which is true liberty. 

Lead, as of old, in Thine own way. 

By wondrous cloud day after day, 

And through earth's dark and gloomy night 

Still guide us with Thy flame of light. 

Bid us not rest nor stay our hand 
Till we shall reach the promised land. 
And at our Saviour's feet bow down 
And from His hand receive a crown. 



FOR THE CHILDREN. 

Christmas, Dec. 25, 1893. 

HAVE you seen the star, have you followed on 
To Bethlehem today.? 
Have you seen the manger rude and cold 

Where the Infant Jesus lay? 
Have you watched and waited at your post 
Your hearts with joy aflame, 



/// Memoriam. ^i 

And heard the songs of the Heavenly host 

Chant praises to his name? 
Have you seen the shepherds with their flocks 

Abiding safe by night, 
While the glory of the Lord shone round 

With a wondrous shining light, 
And heard the angels say to you, 

"Fear not, great joy I bring. 
For unto you is born this day 

A Saviour and a King." 
So let our Christmas songs arise 

On this bright happy day, 
Glory to God, peace on the earth, 

Good will to men we pray. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

July 1S84. 

WE know he closed his eyes one summer's day, 
And from his earthly home was borne away. 
Lifeless and silent of the passing throng. 
With whom he spent his fourscore years among, 
And laid to rest within the valley fair. 
Guarded by mountains hovering o'er it there, 
Like sentinels to watch his sweet repose 
Through Summer days and Winter's chilling snows. 
Though passed from sight he is not gone away. 
He walks again along life's olden way, 
His kindly voice we hear at eventide. 
Often he lingers by the warm fireside. 
His presence will be felt while here we roam 
And children o;ather round the dear old home. 



42 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

SHE RESTS. 

November, 1882, 

iUT out the lights and let her rest 
Free from all earthly care, 
And bring your sweetest flowers to deck 
Her marble brow so fair. 

Put out the lights and let her rest, 

Her weary work is o'er; 
We trust she calmly, sweetly rests 

Safe on the other shore. 

Put out the lights, life's little day 

With us will soon be o'er. 
And we shall go to join the loved 

Where parting comes no more. 



"HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." 

Lines on the Death of Mrs. Augusta M. Howe, Ellis 
River, who Died Nov. ist, 1897. 

WAKE her not — she sweetly sleeps, — 
Hands folded o'er her breast; 
'I'o weary days and anxious nights, 
O wake her not, — she rests. 

She rests from labor, and her works 

Will follow day by day; 
While on the wings of time the years 

Keep their appointed way. 



She was Young to Die. 43 

O wake her not — her beckoning hand 

Will reach to every one 
Of her beloved household band, 

Pleading for them to come. 

O wake her not — we long shall miss 

From life's uncounted hours 
Her presence in her earthly home, 

Made sweet with summer flowers. 

O wake her not — we cannot know 

How soon our time may come, 
When we shall bid adieu to earth. 

And seek our Heavenly home. 

O wake her not — the Saviour saith, 

She is not dead — why weep? 
We give her to His loving care 

Of perfect rest, and sleep. 



SHE WAS YOUNG TO DIE. 

Mrs. Eva Howe Bacon, Hanover, Maine, Died 
Oct. 10, 1898. 

SO young to die, — so young and fair. 
We gaze upon her vacant chair. 
And think how could we let her go. 
When we all loved our darling so. 

So young to die, — and yet it seems, 
She lives again in our fond dreams; 
Sleeping or waking, she draws near. 
And calms our srief and dries our tear. 



44 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

So young to die, — and yet we know 
She was the best prepared to go; 
And while we mourn with hearts opprest, 
We bow and say God's ways are best. 

So young to die, — she beckons you 
To that blest home she had in view; 
Where music sweet fills all the place 
With songs no human mind could trace. 

So young to die, — yet heaven was kind 
Our hearts to cheer — our eyes to blind, 
While gently leading down the vale 
Where oftentimes we shrinking quail. 

So young to die, — our loss her gain, 
No more to suffer grief or pain, 
But dwelling in a fairer land 
And beckoning still with loving hand. 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. Y. A. 
THURSTON. 

Ellis River, Oct. 19, 1895, 

AMID October's softly falling leaves. 
The Master comes to gather in His sheaves. 
His faithful messenger. Death, claims them all. 
And in our peaceful home spreads out his funeral 
pall. 



Lines on the Death of Mrs. Y. A. Thurston. 45 

We shudder when we feel his chilling hand, 
His perfect right we cannot understand; 
And while he whispers to them sweet and low, 
We cling to them, we will not let them go. 

Like a swift arrow in a sunlit sky, 

Our hearts were pierced with sorrow's mournful cr}-; 

No human help or hope to us is left. 

We of a dear loved friend have been bereft. 

We bring with love the sympathizing tear 
For husband, children and the parents dear; 
Sister and brother share our mutual grief, 
With mingled tears our hearts will find relief. 

A universal sorrow fills the place 
Where she has moved with such a quiet grace; 
Long will her memory in our hearts be green, 
Long will her influence in her home be seen. 

We cannot know the Father's tender love, 
That called her to his blessed home above, . 
Where there shall be no night nor any pain, 
Oh happy thought, for them to die is gain. 
And in that happier, "Better Land," 
We'll meet them soon, again. 



46 Home Sollies and C/ironicIes of the Ellis. 

LINES ON THE DEATH OF MR. CHAS. 
PROCTOR AND DAUGHTER, ROBERTA. 

A MOTHER sat weeping at the close of the day, 
For her husband and child had both passed away, 
And were now calmly sleeping their last earthly 

sleep. 
At the sight of such sorrow an angel might weep. 
For there, side by side, they lay cold in death, 
Even strangers beholding would fain hold their 

breath; 
And the dear children gathered in silence and tears. 
For their circle was broken in life's happy years. 
And dark was the night of their sorrow and gloom, 
For their father and sister must be borne to the 

tomb. 
And the mother in grief and anguish bowed low, 
While tears from her weeping eyes softly did flow, 
When she heard a voice speaking in accents so mild, 
"Daughter! Is it well with thee? 
Is it well with thy husband? 
Is it well with the child?" 



The mother raised her bowed head at hearing the 

voice. 
And the message so tender made her heart to rejoice. 
"Faint not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed. 
The God of the widow will give thee his aid. 
He a Father will be to thy children so dear. 
In the day of thy trouble he will ever be near. 
And the Comforter graciously waits to bestow 



On Visiting the Old Home. ^7 

His blessing and help while you tarry below; 

And thy burden so heavy shall be lifted again, 

As homeward you journey midst suffering and pain, 

To meet all the loved ones who are gone on before, 

And will watch for your coming on that fairer shore." 

And the mother made answer and tenderly smiled, 

Saying, — "It is well with me, 

It is well wdth my husband. 

It is well with the child." 



ON VISITING THE OLD HOME. 

'HE winds of October are softly blowing, 
Ov^er the mountains and over the plain. 
The maple leaves with bright colors are glowing, 
When shall I look on these loved scenes again. 

Years have passed by since I gazed on their beauty, 
Graves have been made in the valley so still; 

Life has grown fuller of care and of duty — 
Over them all I would wander at will. 

With a fond memory I'll hold them forever. 
Past and the present shall ever remain, 

Dreams of my childhood time cannot sever 
Though I may never behold them again. 



4^ Home Songs and CJirouicles of Ihe Ellis. 

A GREETING FOR THE C. E. CONVENTION 

At Rumford Point, June 15, 1897. 

COME, for all things are ready, the fairest day of 
June 
Is waiting to receive you with all her wealth of 

bloom; 
And the richest of her treasure bestows with kindly 

grace, 
Like showers of blessings falling within this sacred 
place. 

Come, for all things are ready, our doors are open 

wide, 
We bring you cordial greeting from all this country 

side; 
Our ears are all attuned to hear the glad tidings you 

bring 
Of the stately goings forth today, for Christ and the 

Church we sing. 

Come, for all things are ready, let each one endeavor 
here, 

'J'o do more earnest Christian work throughout the 
coming year; 

With faith and hope and charity inscribed upon our 
shield, 

The waysides and the stony fields may richer har- 
vests yield. 



Eightieth Birthday of Mrs. Mary Ford. 4g 

Come, for all things are ready, our lovely river here, 
Rises to this occasion and brings you happiest cheer; 
And we pray Heaven's richest blessing may rest on 

you today, 
And linger in fond memories when you are far away. 

Come, for all things are ready, long may this meet- 
ing be 

Remembered for its counsel sweet, its social unity; 

And we would say most gladly, as we take the part- 
ing hand, 

God bless and speed the Mission of our Christian 
Endeavor Band. 



EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF MRS. MARY 
FORD, RUMFORD POINT. 

Dec. 4, 1897. 
*HE year is swiftly hurrying on. 
With all its promise fair; 
E'en now I feel upon my cheek 
The keen December air. 

The May-day of life's joyous time, 

Hath flown on eagle wing. 
And left me here almost alone 

My plaintive song to sing. 

The Spring with all its bud and bloom 

Of flower, for me has gone; 
Save fondest hopes and happy hours. 

For me to dwell upon. 



JO Home Sotigs a?id Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Sweet Summer came to bless my life, 

With labors for my kind; 
And duties, plans of future years, 

For them were borne in mind. 

The Autumn with its ripened fruit 

Of life's most golden store, 
Was mine to pluck and gather in; 

Would I had garnered more. 

The Winter of my life has come. 

Like this December gray. 
Where with my family I keep 

My Eightieth birthday. 

I look out on my native hills, 
While tears bedew mine eyes; 

And pondering on life's toilsome way, 
How many mercies rise. 

And standing on life's outer bound, 
I stretch my hands and cry, 

"Dear Saviour, come and comfort me, 
Oh, hear my humble sigh. 

The way is dark, calm Thou my fears. 

And send a Heavenly ray. 
And let thy presence cheer my heart 

This Eightieth birthday." 



Silver Weddirig of Mr. and Mrs. J. K. Elliott, jz 

SILVER WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. J. K. 

ELLIOTT. 
LuciNDA G. Howe. 

Ellis River, Feb. 3, 1895. 

TH E happy chime of Silver Wedding bells, 
Ploat round the Ellis, and the mountain side; 
And tell us that the years have swiftly run 

By these dear friends, our bridegroom and his 
bride. 

We see them in the happy long ago, 

Striving to make home pleasant and serene; 

While year by year have lisping voices come 
To join the chorus of the household scene. 

Fair daughters and brave sons were added to 
The little group whom time had sore distressed; 

Mingling in one the current of their lives, 

Grown with the years more hopeful and more 
blessed. 

Their joys and sorrows we have freely shared, 

While journeying on these common county ways. 

And 'tis our prayer they with us long remain, 
To spend the evening of their pilgrim days. 

Our hearts rejoice while seasons come and go, 
So much of comfort, resignation, peace. 

Rests on this household and we humbly pray 

Heaven's choicest blessings may with years in- 
crease. 

And to the Father's care we now commend 
These loving friends forever and a day. 

We hope to meet them in some fairer clime. 

When all earth's changes shall have passed away. 



52 Home Songs and Chrofiicles of the Ellis. 
RECEPTION GIVEN D. C. WOOD. 

Ellis River, Aug. 29, 1892. 

THE field was Rumford, and the Master set 
His servant in the northern part of it, 
To labor in his vineyard day by day, 
While all the Summer hours should pass away. 

He bade the servant for the work prepare, 
To put the armor on with many a care, 
To wrestle in the conflict for the right 
And all the works of darkness put to flight. 

And thus prepared, in flush of early youth. 
Having the loins girded about with truth, 
With the breast-plate of righteousness secure. 
That to the end the servant might endure. 

The feet well shod, the labor to increase. 
With preparations of the gospel peace; 
Above all taking the shield of faith 
To quench the fiery darts that fly beneath. 

And take the helmet of salvation true, 
The head to shield from heat, and danger too; 
And with the sword of the spirit in the hand. 
Which is the Word of God — equipt to stand. 

And praying always with all fervent prayer 
And supplications for the Father's care. 
To bless the work and lead the servant on. 
To make the mystery of this gospel known. 



Reception gtvefi B. C. Wood. 53 

The servant came, — a student from the school; 
No doubt he brought with him the golden rule, 
And chart and compass from the Master's hand, 
That he might enter and possess the land. 

He ran his eye along the northern gate, 
And to himself he said, "I need not wait; 
The Master told me there was much to do. 
The time was short, the laborers were few. 

"Til move these thorns and briars from the way 
Lest they give trouble in the coming day; 
And dig along this hedge at early dawn. 
And scatter here some seeds of wheat and corn. 

"This little tree with branches bending low, 
I'll trim with care, that it may stronger grow, 
So that the happy birds may build a nest 
And rear their brood in peace and quietness. 

"This dark old corner with its choking vines. 
Shall be renewed with pleasant curving lines. 
And goodly seed be sown with liberal hand. 
That long may bud and blossom in the land. 

"This grove of trees close by the vineyard wall, 
So full of leaves and branches, strong and tall, 
Shall feel my fostering care from day to day 
Till they shall wondrous symmetry display. 

"This little stream that runs so calm and still, 
I'll clear of sticks and stones so that it will 
Run with glad haste and sing a happy song 
To cheer the weary heart while toiling on. 



^4 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

"This gnarled old oak whose branches towering high 
Defy the wintry winds with groan and sigh, 
Shall feel the pruning knife about its roots, 
That it again may send out vigorous shoots. 

"This gray old rock, half hidden in the mire, 
Shall feel the power of the refiner's fire, 
And stand a monument forever more, 
And tell the Master's victory o'er and o'er. 

"These vineyard walls need strength; my feeble hand 

Cannot protect this pleasant smiling land; 

The Master's hand alone can hold it fast. 

While days and years run swiftly, hurrying past." 

The Summer waned, and in the twilight late 

The servant stood beside the vineyard gate; 

His head was bare, his hand seemed outstretched o'er, 

As if a blessing he would still implore 

To rest upon them and with them abide. — 

He turned and saw the Master by his side. 

He bowed his head, and pointing o'er the land. 
Said, "My dear Master, thou must understand." 
No other words he sought out to repeat, 
But humbly fell down at the Master's feet. 

The Master laid His hand upon his head, 
And said, "My son, be thou much comforted; 
Thou hast well done, the seed you scattered free 
May bear fourfold of richest grain for me. 



Decoration Day. S5 

"Perchance you may return another year 
And gather in the full corn in the ear; 
Perchance on other Summer's dewy eves 
You'll come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves. 
A Paul may plant, Apollos water free. 
But God alone can give the victory." 

He arose, and gazed upon the evening fair, 
And in the stillness breathed a fervent prayer; 
And when he came back to the room apace, 
A smile still lingered on his thoughtful face; 
And all the people said he must have seen 
Visions of angels, or a waking dream. 

He only said, "My friends, I go away. 
But the dear Master will forever stay; 
He is the best, the dearest, truest friend. 
His love to all I freely would commend." 

And at the Throne of Mercy may we plead 
For strength and courage, while we say Godspeed, 
And God be with -you, till we meet again. 
Be our farewell, our tender, sad refrain. 



DECORATION DAY. 

RuMFORD Point, May 30, 1894. 

ENEATH the smiling skies of May, 
Our flag floats to the breeze; 
Where Rumford greets her gallant sons 
Beside her native trees. 



^6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The whispering pines their stories tell 
To comrades gathered here; 

To some they bring a happy smile, 
To others memories dear. 

The river murmurs as it flows 

A song of love and peace, 
And bears them to a happier land 

Where wars and tumults cease. 

The martial strains fall on the ear, 

With tender sad refrain; 
The mountains take the echoes up, 

And send them back again. 

The sire, the grandsire and the son, 
And matrons grave and gay. 

And maidens fair and laughing child, 
God speed them on their way. 

They scatter o'er each comrade's bed 
May's brightest, sweetest flowers. 

And speak with tender, cheering words 
Through all the passing hours. 

Year after year the hand of time 

Falls softly on each brow; 
Those youthful heroes of the wars 

Are bearded veterans, now. 

Their comrades sleep in every land, 
From east to western shore; 

Today in peace, hand clasped in hand. 
They scatter flowers once more. 



The Message. S7 

And tell of all the noble deeds, 

Of fathers, brothers, sons; 
And on whose field the deadliest fight. 

And greatest victory won. 

The Great Commander leads the march. 

Forward the battle cry; 
The answer comes along the line, 

Ready to do or die. 



w 



THE MESSAGE. 

'HAT message from the Master hast thou 
brought 

That shall lift up our waiting hearts today ; 
What miracle the Saviour's hand hath wrought 
Leads us to humbly worship and to pray. 

What precept and example canst thou bring 
That gives us strength and courage to go on — 

What better friend — surely none can be found 
Than this we read of — His beloved Son. 

All times and places are the records true, 
He loved the world so well His life he gave. 

This is the message I have brought to you, 

He lived and died, your precious souls to save. 

Will you not take the message sent from heaven, 
There is none other name among men given. 

Oh, come and welcome — Yea this very hour 
Come and accept, believe and be forgiven. 



j<? Hotne Sollies ajid Chronicles of the Ellis. 

CHRISTMAS AT J. K. ELLIOTT'S. 

Dec. 25, 1897. 

HAVE you heard the wondrous story, 
Told to-day in all the earth; 
Long foretold by ancient prophets, 
Of our Saviour's lowly birth? 

How the wise men came to Bethlehem, 

(}uided by a radiant star, 
Followed till it came, stood over, 

Where the child and mother were? 

How they all rejoiced with great joy 
That their quest had come so true ; 

And fell down and worshipped gladly, 
Opening treasures rich and new? 

And presented unto him gifts, 

Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh; 

And departed to their country. 
Spreading the good news afar? 

Never such a wondrous story, 

E'er was told in Bethlehem; 
Ne'er again will stars appearing 

Startle kings, or yet, wise men. 

But the wondrous, wondrous story, 

Told to-day in all the earth, 
Fills our hearts with love and rapture. 

While we here rehearse His birth. 



Christmas at y. K. Elliots. 59 

For the angel had declared Him 

Named Immanuel, God with us; 
He should save His people ever, 

Who in Him would humbly trust. 

Let us bring our loving treasures, 

Strew them all along our way, 
Sing again a song of gladness, 

Christ was born on Christmas day. 

St. Luke tells us Judean shepherds. 
Watching o'er their flocks by night, 

Saw the angel and God's glory. 
Like unto a heavenly light. 

And the angel said unto them. 

Fear not, for behold I bring 
Tidings good and of great joy. 

That all people now may sing. 
Take, oh take this tender story. 

Chant again this holy hymn. 

For unto you is born this day 

A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord ; 

And this sign shall be unto you. 
You shall find the sure record. 

And shall find the babe wrapped lying 

In a manger rude and dim. 
While the heavenly host and angels 

Sing their praise in holy hymn. 



6o Home Sofigs atid Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Glory in the highest, glory, 

On earth peace, good will to men, 

Tell the story to all people. 
Wake the angel songs again. 

Let us say as did those shepherds. 

Let us go to Bethlehem, 
See this thing which came to pass there. 

By the Lord made known to them. 

And return as did those shepherds. 
Glorifying and praising God 

For the things that they had seen there. 
And the wondrous things they heard. 

Glory in the highest, glory, 
Christ was born in Bethlehem. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
Read at Sidney P. Howe's. 

For the Ellis, 1895. 
BETHLEHEM! 

Thou fairest city of the Eastern world. 
How many eyes will fondly turn to thee; 

How many feet will tread thy streets today. 
For Christ, our Lord and Saviour, here was born, 
On Christmas Day. 

O Bethlehem ! 
' Tis many, many hundred years ago. 

Since these glad tidings to the world were brought; 
The glorious news has spread to every land. 
And islands of the sea thy songs have caught. 
On Christmas Day. 



A Christmas Carol. 6 1 

O Bethlehem ! 
What wonder that the humble shepherds there 

Were sore afraid, the glory to behold; 
And listening, heard the angel say, Fear not, 
I bring good tidings to a waiting world, 
On Christmas Day. 

O Bethlehem ! 
Thou didst proclaim to all the heavenly truth, 

For unto you is born this day a Saviour, Lord, 
And this sign shall be, ye shall find the babe. 

And a multitude of the heavenly host praising God 
On Christmas Day. 

O Bethlehem! 
Thou hast not lost a single joyous strain. 

Glory to God, and on the broad earth, peace; 
Good will to men, forever, ever more. 

Let Faith and Hope and Love with years increase 
On Christmas Day. 

O Bethlehem! 
Draw us still nearer to happy gates 

And let the glory of our Lord appear; 
Teach us to sing anew the joyous song, 
Glory to God in highest praise each year 
On Christmas Day. 



62 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

Written for the Ellis. 

Dec. 25TH, 1894. 

o 



F'T as returns the eventful Christmas time, 

Echoes from far off Bethlehem sweetly chime 



Throughout the world, a wondering people haste. 
To once again look on the smiling face 
Of the dear babe, in a rude manger laid. 
Because no room for him within the inn was made. 
In the same country shepherds through the night, 
Abiding in the fields, beheld a wondrous light, 
The glory of the Lord around about did shine, 
Making the hills and valleys seem almost divine; 
And they were sore afraid and to the others said. 
Let us now go to Bethlehem with all speed 
And see this thing which there has come to pass. 
Which the Lord now hath made known unto us. 
And they all came with haste and saw the babe so 

meek and mild. 
Then made known abroad the saying concerning this 

young child, 
And all that heard it wondered at those things, 

while it seemed 
Like unto some fair vision, by the humble shepherds 

dreamed. 
And they returned directly, glorifying and praising 

God 
For all the things that they had seen, and all that 

they had heard. 



A C/iristmas Carol. 63 

REFRAIN. 

Oh, wonderful, wonderful story, proclaimed by shep- 
herds, 
Angels and men, while the heavenly host sang 
"Glory to God, on earth peace, good will to men." 

And lo, the angel of the Lord said unto them, "This 

thing 
Is but good tidings of great joy, I to all people 

bring. 
For unto you is born this day in David's City fair, 
A Saviour, which is Christ the Lord, Wonderful, 

Counsellor. 
And by this sign I give to you, ye there shall find 

the babe. 
With his parents bending o'er him, and in a manger 

laid." 
And suddenly with the angel appeared a heavenly 

throng, 
Saying, "Glory to God in the highest, good will to 

men belong. 
And on earth peace." Abiding peace, we hear the 

angels say. 
Before from these watchful shepherds, into heaven 

they were gone away. 

REFRAIN. 

Oh, wonderful, wonderful story, proclaimed by shep- 
herds. 
Angels and men, while the heavenly host sang 
"Glory to God, on earth peace, good will to men." 



64 Home So?igs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

And we are also told, behold, there came wise men, 

From their own home in the east, even to Jerusalem, 

Saying, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews, 

For we have seen his star in the east and rejoice in 
the glorious news." 

And they were sent to Bethlehem to search on its 
fertile plain, 

And when they had found the child to return, bring- 
ing Herod word again, 

And lo, the star which they saw in the east went 
before them all the way 

'Till it came and stood over where the young child 
beside its mother lay; 

And when they were come into the house they saw 
the fair young child, 

And straightway fell down and worshipped him, re- 
joicing all the while; 

And when they had opened their treasures, they pre- 
sented him gifts of gold. 

While their spices of myrrh and frankincense their 
loving homage told. 

REFRAIN. 

Oh, wonderful, wonderful story, proclaimed by shep- 
herds. 
Angels and men, while the heavenly host sang 
"Glory to God, on earth peace, good will to men." 



1'he Granite Dinner. 6^ 

THE GRANGE DINNER. 

RuMFORD Centre, Jan. 1893. 

'SX/OUR kind invitation, though coming up late, 

ii Was as kindly accepted, and here I will state 

It found us as dry as a midsummer spring; 
But we hitched up our Robin and drove ourselves in, 
And bro't down the best of our reserve forces. 
Which I will serve up in three or four courses. 

And first let me say we are glad to be here 

To meet with your Order and partake of your cheer, 

And hope from today it may take such a boom 

As scarcely to leave in this hall standing room. 

And during the year your fame be so great 

As to overflow largely the bounds of our State. 

And now if you think that grace has been said, 
I will pass around the soup and the toast bread. 
'I'he soup, if you please, we will call it, consomme. 
Perhaps it had better be classed as Bon Hommie. 
We won't discuss names but stick for the flavor, 
Resolved to do every true Granger a favor. 

And into this course I will now introduce 
The farming establishments and their produce, 
And decide what is best to grow on a farm, — 
The subject can never do any one harm, — 
And what can be gained in the course of a year 
The sum and the substance I'll try to make clear. 



66 Home So/z^i^'s and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

I think tilling the soil is a first class trade, 
It best fills the bill of any j'^et made; 
And has been handed down to us from the ages, 
Adapted to rich men, to wise men and sages 
Who feel they have need of some great work to do 
That will keep a clear conscience and pay their way 
too. 



The best thing we hold is a comfortable home. 
No man with five senses afar off would roam; 
It makes us so homesick when some of them say 
"I'd sell the old homestead and move off today, 
If I could but have my money all down 
You'd never catch me again in this town." 

And where would they go, I will ask you all — where? 
To find better lodgings or eat better fare 
Than can be served up on the famed Androscoggin. 
Thou that think otherwise had better be jogging 
And leave all the spare room to some worthy 

Granger 
Who never would be from, old Rumford a stranger. 

I'd just like to set them square down in some city, 
And then, on the sly, listen to their new ditty; 
And may be, some day, when we run up to town 
All their jobs may be finished and they hanging 

'round 
Those fine old soup houses, as we have been told. 
The jokes that are played on the lazy and old. 



The Grange Dinner. 67 

Most all of our people have quite goods enough 
For luxury and comfort with nice parlor stuff; 
And most every farmer drives a fine team, 
And money and milk flow in one steady stream. 
Like our loved Androscoggin, its still bound to flow 
Till it reaches the city a few miles below. 

You scarce can go anywhere but some one will say, 
"How about the New City, has it come there to 

stay?" 
'Tis just like the business of farming and granging, 
They have all come to stay, but may need little 

changing 
As time shall deal round a new set of ideas. 
And the Solons of Rumford break in their young 

steers. 



Is there any one here that could go back today 
To their grandfather's time and work in his way 
At planting and reaping and swinging the flail; 
I guess the young farmer's courage would fail, 
And they would cry out for modern invention. 
And from every hill top call out for protection. 

Would these sisters go back to the old country days. 

And live in the kitchen with all the old ways 

Of baking and brewing and spinning and dyeing? 

I pause — but I hear no sweet voice replying. 

Like these waters we never backward could roam 

Or sing from the heart, "Give us back the old home." 



68 Ho7?ie So?igs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

And what in the world would your Grange master do 
When he'd made up his mind young Priscilla to woo. 
The damsel's stern father a peeling a broom, 
The mother a breaking her flax with a comb, 
In his great confusion he might jog the cradle. 
And recover himself by ^iisop's best fable. 



We all have outgrown those little old houses, 
As well as those old time kitchen carouses. 
And we call out today for mansions more ample. 
Perhaps the New City may set an example; 
Just now it is chiefly where people are seeking 
To invest all their monies for future safe keeping. 

The time calls out loudly for me to make haste. 
So I'll not let my eloquent speech run to waste. 
We will hope that the best of profits and pleasures 
May wait on this Order's enactments and measures, 
And that in the future as well as the past. 
They may take on new honors that ever will last. 

And now if you please I will pass round the wine, 
You will readily see it's no compound of mine; 
The brand was struck off for extra occasions 
And largely made up of sugar of raisins; 
When you have all drank if you don't say enough, 
I will ask the head waiter to pass round the snuff. 



Memorial Day. 6g 

MEMORIAL DAY. 

To Joseph E. Colby Post, G. A. R. 

RuMFORD Centre, 1897. 

,LOW softly, softly, winds of May, 
Waft all your sweet perfume 
Of violets and lilies fair, 
Above each soldier's tomb. 
Blow, softly blow, Oh winds of May 
And hover o'er Memorial Day. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 

Bring all your homage sweet, 

And pour it with a blessing down. 

Low at each soldier's feet. 

Blow, softly blow, Oh winds of May, 

Bring sweetest flowers Memorial Day. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 

Unfurl the Flag once more, 

And wave o'er every soldier's grave 

From east to western shore. 

Blow, softly blow, Oh winds of May, 

God bless our Flag, Memorial Day. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 

Listen! I catch the strain 

Of martial music, hear the tramp 

Of marching feet again. 

Blow, softly blow. Oh winds of May, 

Play Home, Sweet Home, Memorial Day. 



JO Home Sofigs and Chrofiicles of the Ellis. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 

Some dear old camp-song sing 

To cheer the weary soldiers' hearts, — 

Time sweeps on eagle wing. 

Blow, softly blow. Oh winds of May, 

Chant songs of peace. Memorial Day. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 

Some camp-fire stories tell 

Of husband, brother, soldier, friend, 

Laid low by shot or shell. 

Blow, softly blow. Oh winds of May, 

Their deeds record, Memorial Day. 

Blow softly, softly, winds of May, 
There's One who guards the Posts, 
And He will keep good watch and ward. 
Our Sovereign Lord of Hosts. 
Blow, softly blow. Oh winds of May, 
God bless our land, Memorial Day. 



IN MEMORY OF REV. JOHN ELLIOTT, 

And his beloved wife, Arabelle Berry Elliott, who 

spent their last years with the church at 

Rumford Point. 

ESIDE the dear old home close by the flowing 
river. 

Where they have laid life's weary burden down, 
And resting from their labors, cares and sorrows. 
Exchanged earth's heavy cross for heavenly crown. 



/;/ Memory of Mrs. J. H. Raiuson. yi 

What words of life and comfort have they carried 
To many homes made sad by death's decree; 

They have rejoiced with others in their gladness, 
And wept with them in life's adversity. 

Their children have gone out to other places, 
Well fitted to take up life's duties there; 

While others yet, beside them calmly sleeping 
Fell by the wayside, wearied with its care. 

We bring this worthy tribute of remembrance, 
In honor of their years of service here 

Among this people in the dear Lord's vineyard, 
Where many still their faith and love revere. 



IN MEMORY OF MRS. J. H. RAWSON 

Of Rumford Point. Died in Brooklyn, N. Y., Oct. 
29, 1899, aged 95 years. 

FULL of days and full of honors. 
Bear her to her rest away; 
Though we would not call it dying. 
Standing by her grave today. 

Full of days lived here among us 

Since a young and happy bride, 
With her husband and her children. 

By fair Androscoggin's side. 



72 Home Songs and Chrotiicles of the Ellis. 

Now the murmur of the river 
Chants a requiem soft and low; 

Like our lives it will not tarry, 
Ever onward is its flow. 

Bearing all our friends and kindred 
To that boundless ocean, where 

In our Father's love and mercy 
He will bring His children there. 

Full of honors, we would ever 

Speak her worth with reverence due, 

And in memory fondly cherish 

Her strong faith and courage true. 

Full of honors, what more precious 
Than a mother's faithful love, 

By her precept and example 
Leadino; to her home above. 



THE NINETY-SECOND BIRTHDAY. 
Mrs. Hannah Stearns, June 28, 1897. 

HARK! Is there somebody calling? 
I see the children at play; 
It may be the mother is calling them in. 

At the close of a fair June day. 
Calling them in to the dear home nest, 
Calling them in to sleep and to rest, 
Lovingly calling, tenderly calling. 
Calling the children in. 



/// Memory of Mrs. Sarah P. Abbott. /j 

Hark! Is there somebody calling? 

The meridian sun climbs high. 
I see a happy family group 

With dear friends smiling by. 
And the children are running up and down, 
Plaiting for mother a flowery crown, 
Lovingly calling, tenderly calling. 
Calling to mother, dear. 

Hark! Is there somebody calling? 

That group has passed away; 
A mother is toiling along life's road, 

In the evening twilight gray. 
She wears a smile of welcome for all. 
She is waiting to hear the dear Lord call. 
Lovingly calling, tenderly calling, 
Calling, come home, come home. 



IN MEMORY OF MISS SARAH P. ABBOTT. 

South Andover, Maine, 1896. 
(C;^ HE passed away with the April snow, 



/O' And sweetly sleeps while June roses blow. 
And scatter their leaves o'er her lowly bed 
Where she rests beside her own loved dead. 

The happy birds sing their sweetest song, 
And build their nests and rear their young; 
And the sunlight lovingly lingers there, 
And fades away on the evening air. 



J 4 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Her faith and hope were an anchor sure 
That gave her courage and strength to endure; 
And the thought of meeting her loved again 
Fill her heart with joy and allayed its pain. 

She hears no more the rude tempest beat, 
Finds no rough path for her weary feet; 
And feels no sorrow and hears no moan, 
For there is no death in her heavenly home. 

She hath done what she could, most nobly done, 
From life's morning hour to its setting sun; 
We shall see her no more among her flowers, 
Where she often walked in the summer hours. 

We shall miss her for many a day, 
While the years so swiftly speed on their way; 
But rest assured, she hath found sweet rest 
In that happy land of the pure and the blest, 

O, why should we mourn death's kindly call, 
He is speaking to you, to me, to all: 
"Be ye also ready, I quickly come 
To lead some weary pilgrim home." 



Dedication of the Church. 75 

DEDICATION OF THE CHURCH. 

Andover, 1897. 
Isaiah 52. 

AWAKE, awake, O Zion, 
Put on thy garments fair. 
And let a song of gladness 

Rise on the wintry air; 
For Christ our Lord and Saviour 

Dwells in this holy place. 
And unto us. His people, 
Extends His saving grace. 

Like dew upon the mountain, 

His blessing shall come down 
And rest within these valleys. 

With peace and plenty crowned. 
And tell the joyful tidings, 

Publish salvation free, 
'Till all shall learn to praise him 

From the mountains to the sea. 

Awake, awake, O Zion, 

Renew us hour by hour, 
'Till like our house of worship. 

We may be strong and fair. 
Our watchmen lift their voices. 

Together shall they sing, 
And give the palm of victory 

To Christ, our Saviour King. 



/d Home So figs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Awake, awake, O people, 

Give praise and worship sweet. 
And lay your cares and burdens 

Down at His gracious feet; 
And you go out with singing 

A happy song of cheer. 
For His abounding mercy 

Vouchsafed from year to year. 



HAPPY GREETINGS. 

Re-union of the William Adams family, formerly of 
the Ellis, at West Paris, Oct. 21, 1894. 

*HE swiftly moving wheels of time have brought 
the autumn days. 
And we are gathered once again, from all our chosen 

ways, 
The children of one family, brothers and sisters dear. 
With our companions, children, friends, to hold re- 
union here. 



Our hearts are warm and glad today, and this bright, 
happy hour 

Carries us back to childhood's home, we feel its hal- 
lowed power; 

We think of all those pleasant days when not a 
thought of care 

Could reach the children dwelling under the roof- 
tree there. 



Happy Greetings. yy 

Those early years, we turn to them as life glides 
swift away, 

And feel they were our happiest ones along our des- 
tined way; 

When a kind and loving mother smiled on each up- 
turned face, 

And a father's parting counsel made us strong to run 
life's race. 

We see in these four worthy sons, the father's heart 
shine forth. 

And in these daughters' kindly lives, we read a 

mother's worth; 
And so we bear them record, they have not lived in 

vain. 

Whose sons and daughters everywhere their integrity 
maintain. 

We are all here today, we talk of days long since 
gone by, 

When youth and hope and happiness seemed to be 
hovering nigh; 

We are not all here, the youngest one, whom we all 
loved so well. 

With another cherished sister have bidden us fare- 
well. 

It seems but yesterday since we, in simple pride and 

glee, 
Beside the flowing Ellis planned out what we might 

be; 
But the years have vanished quickly, our dreams are 

unfulfilled. 

May we now learn to simply trust, believing it God's 
will. 



y8 Hiwie Songs ajid Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Today we hardly realize how time with gentle hand 

Has touched our youthful brows and forms, we can- 
not understand; 

While we listen to these voices and feel they still are 
ours, 

Or look upon each well-known face, while speed the 
winged hours. 

Oh, never till life's latest hour shall we forget this 

day. 
When all the children gathered here, with greetings 

on the way; 
And to our Heavenly Father, our thanks and praise 

belong, 
Who through life's toils and conflicts has brought us 

safely on. 



NINETIETH BIRTHDAY OF MRS. MARCIA 
SMITH STEVENS. 

So. Andover, July 15, 1895. 

THE years are running by like flowing waters, 
Dancing and singing on their destined way 
Adding a charm to all who may behold them. 
As well as bearing us with them away. 

We start in life like some tiny brooklet. 
Making our way across the meadows fair; 

Gathering new strength with every welcome current. 
Spreading at length into a river there. 



Ninetieth Birthday of Mrs. M. S. Stevens. "jg 

When once we set out on our life-long journey, 
There's no returning to our starting place; 

Our destinies henceforth are ever onward, 

And days and months and years fill out the space. 

Some lives are numbered by a few days only. 
Some others count a few months, we have seen; 

While others yet to years — though few or many, 
All have the same unrest and feverish dream. 

Our dearest friends and kindred have passed on be- 
fore us. 

We miss them sadly as the years go by; 
We listen for their footsteps and their voices, 

And who will wonder should we sometime sigh. 

We know this earth is not for aye abiding. 
At any time we may be summoned hence. 

From life's stern law there is no more returning. 
Nor can we plead a word in our defence. 

You, who have seen the bloom of ninety summers. 
And frosts of winter with its chill and gloom; 

Know that on earth there comes a bright tomorrow. 
Seen through the gateway of each earthly tomb. 

And should you stay with us a little longer, 
May every day be full of prayer and praise; 

And when on earth your voice is strangely silent, 
May you begin in heaven angelic lays 



8o Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

To Him who loved and died on earth to save you, 
And hast redeemed you by His precious blood; 

Through all your pilgrim way has walked beside you, 
To bring you safely home to dwell forever with 
your Lord. 



AN EASTER OFFERING 
To Rev. William Hyde. 

Weymouth, Mass., 1893. 

ROTHER! Behold this Surplice white and fair, 
The gift of friends fashioned with loving care 
For thee, our friend and rector, toiling here. 
In the Lord's vineyard, lo, this many a year. 

This Easter morn we bring it in His name. 
And may you put it on with heart aflame 
With holy zeal the Master's cause to plead. 
As one who loves his sheep and lambs to feed. 

May no unholy thoughts lodge in your breast, 
Faith, Hope and Charity, a constant guest. 
And purity of life in deed and word, 
As well becomes a servant of the Lord. 

Let Easter songs today rise on the air, 
The Lord is risen, proclaim Him conqueror; 
Where is thy victory, Oh boasting grave. 
The Lord is risen indeed, to bless and save. 



Goldeti Wedding of Mr. a?i(/ Mrs. "Johnson. 8i 

Put on anew the armor of your God, 
And walk by faith along your pilgrim road; 
By precept and example preach the word 
And daily lead them nearer to their Lord. 

So may your strength be equal to your day, 
While time shall gently roll the years away; 
Trusting our Heavenly Father will prepare 
A robe of righteousness for you to wear. 



GOLDEN WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. 
W. A. JOHNSON, LOWELL, MASS. 

Lucy A. Hutchins. December 22, 1896. 

THESE lovely hills and valleys were covered o'er 
with snow, 
When Merry Wedding Bells rang out, full fifty years 

ago. 
The gray December sun shone down upon a happy 

bride. 
Within a quaint old farmhouse, by the fair Ellis' side. 

The dear home friends had gathered round to greet 

the youthful pair, 
Their kind congratulations fell on the wintry air. 
With love and joy and blessing, that they might 

happy be. 
And with true love and courage journey o'er life's 

untried sea. 



82 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Some few remember well the day, though fifty years 

have passed, 
And dear old friends have passed from sight with 

every winter's blast; 
Yet in their pathway hosts of friends have sprung up 

everywhere, 
And this Happy, Golden Wedding Day their joys 

and sorrows share. 



And their old friends will gather round with their 

bewitching spells. 
Who proudly stood beside them when the Silver 

Wedding Bells 
Rang out so clear and joyous, with tender, sweet 

refrain. 
May these happy Golden Wedding Bells revive old 

hearts again. 

The bridegroom and his bride today look on the 
pleasant scene, 

And speak of many bygone days like some fair wak- 
ing dream. 

Though time has gently touched them we would not 
call them old; 

Their wealth of love and happiness has been many 
hundred fold. 

Fair daughters, too, and worthy sons, are standing 

smiling by. 
With loving words and gentle hands uplifted to the 

sky. 



Golden IVeddi/ig of Mr. am/ Mrs. jfohnson. 8j 

Imploring Heaven's choice blessings to rest upon 

them now, 
While with the dear grandchildren in prayer they 

humbly bow, 

And thank the gracious Father with sweetest songs 
of praise. 

For His great love and mercy through all their pil- 
grim ways. 

Still trusting in His loving care, that marks a spar- 
row's fall, 

They watch and wait at the Golden Gate for the 
Master's homeward call. 

And friends from far and near will send letters of 
sweet surprise, 

Wishing them still more happy years while tears be- 
dim their eyes. 

God grant this gray December sun shine o'er the 
scene again, 

More bright than fifty years ago in dear old Rum- 
ford, Maine. 



84 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

GOLDEN WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. J. A. 
METCALF, ANDOVER, MASS. 

Sept., 1898. 
LuciNDA B. HuTCHiNS, Ellis River. 



w 



EDDING Bells! Wedding Bells! 
Happy wedding bells; 



What fond memories waken, 

Happy wedding bells. 
Memories fond and tender 

Of the long ago, 
When we two were wedded 

Fifty years ago. 
And today we hear the chime 
Of that far off joyous time, 
Of the happy wedding bells, 

Happy wedding bells, 
Wedding bells. 

Wedding Bells! Wedding Bells! 

Silver wedding bells. 
Full of the sweetest music. 

Silver wedding bells. 
Music low and tender. 

Songs of other days. 
When the dear friends' voices 

Mingled in our lays. 
And today we catch the strain 
Of those dear old songs again. 
Of the silver wedding bells. 

Silver wedding bells, 
Wedding bells. 



Memorial Day at Forest Hills. 8^ 

Wedding Bells! Wedding Bells ! 

Golden wedding bells; 
What fond memories linger, 

Golden wedding bells. 
Memories true and tender 

Of the years gone by, 
Dearest, you remember. 

The children, you and I. 
And today while gathered here. 
Unseen guests may linger near. 
Clasp our loving hands once more. 
May the Father's tender love 
Guide us to our home above 
When life's journey shall be o'er; 
And listening to the golden bells 
We bid you friends hail and farewell, 
While fond memories linger 
In our hearts forever more 
Of these golden wedding bells, 

Happy golden wedding bells, 
Golden wedding bells. 



MEMORIAL DAY AT FOREST HILLS. 

May 30TH, 1879. 

^H bring fresh flowers, the sweetest flowers. 
Entwine with myrtle and with bay; 
With grateful hearts and loving hands. 
Bedeck each soldier grave today. 



86 Hoi/ic Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Beneath, where floats the starry flag, 
A patriot sleeps, the brave, the true, 

Who gave his life to PVeedom's cause; 
An offering for me and you. 

Oh Liberty, stretch forth thine hand, 
Let Truth and Justice still increase 

Till North and South and East and West 
Unite to sing the song of Peace. 

Father of mercies, hear the prayers 
The nation offers Thee today, 

Hear, and forgive our follies past. 
And lead us in thy perfect way. 



THE OLD CHURCHYARD NEAR MUSIC 
HALL, BOSTON, MASS. 

^VER the way in the churchyard old. 

Dark and grim the old tombstones stand. 
One might fancy twas long ago, 

Since they were placed there by loving hand; 
Long ago when their hearts were young 

And full of joy as are ours today; 
The angel of death passed o'er the land 

And bore the dearest and loveliest ones away. 

Over the way in the churchyard old. 

They laid them to rest in the silent tomb; 

The aged ones with the victor's wreath. 

And the prattling child in it's youthful bloom. 



The Old Churchyard. 8y 

And there they planted by sire and child, 
The young elm tree, and the silver larch 

Whose tall branches wave in the gentle wind. 

And weave o'er their loved ones a beautiful arch. 

Over the way in the churchyard old. 

Green grows the turf and the dews softly fall; 
Bright flowers are blossoming, one by one, 

Shedding sweet fragrance over them all. 
Spring-time has come to each flower and each tree; 

Giving new beauty and life all around. 
When will the Spring of these sleepers appear? 

When will they hear the glad trumpet sound? 

Over the way in the churchyard old, 

I love to gaze at the twilight hour. 
And think of our heavenly home above 

Where death's chilling hand hath no more power. 
Where they need no sun nor moon to light 

That beautiful city from sorrow free, 
Where the Tree of Life in its beauty grows, 

And the throne of our God and the Lamb shall be. 



88 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

A GOLDEN WEDDING. 

For Our Friends, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Barker, 
Concord, N. H. 

Melinda Kyle, Rumford. 

May 12, 1844. May 12, 1894. 

A QUIET wedding — fifty years ago — 
Beside the Androscoggin's ceaseless flow, 
Was witnessed by the friends of the young pair. 
When smiling May brought out her Mayflowers fair. 

The earth was carpeted with dainty green, 
The apple trees looked kindly on the scene 
With wealth of blossom, fragrant, light and fair. 
Which seemed a benediction on the air. 

The flowing river sang a cheerful song 
Of tuneful melody while hastening on, 
Or hiding in some laughing eddy, lay 
Watching the sunbeams o'er it's waters play. 

The happy birds were chirping soft and sweet. 
As though they would some message still repeat 
To these young hearts plighting their troth that day. 
To carry with them through their chosen way. 

A charming couple — fifty years ago. 
The fire of youth in their fond hearts did glow. 
And on each brow as yet unknown to care, 
The lines of beauty rested, bright and fair. 



A Golden Wedding. 8g 

The present seemed so full of earthly joy, 
They scarcely thought it held the least alloy, 
And wondered while the friends still lingered near 
And wished them joy for many a happy year. 

Those early friends they knew and loved of old, 
Have nearly all been gathered to the fold 
Of the Dear Shepherd, who has faithful kept 
His loving watch-care while they waked or slept. 



We follow them along from year to year, 
Till on their fair horizon, sweet and clear 
We hear the silver wedding bells' soft chime. 
Which tells them of the rapid flight of time. 

They take a swift survey and onward move, 
This is the law of life while here we rove. 
No backward steps can ever be retraced 
When once we start out on life's destined race. 



The river never stops or stays it's course, 
On to the ocean from it's hidden source; 
Fair Androscoggin shimmers as of yore, 
And other lovers walk upon it's shore. 

Time has dealt kindly with our dear young friends. 
Granting them health and strength to make amends 
For all their losses on their journey here. 
Till in the distance golden stars appear. 



go -Hotne Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

A Golden Wedding — fifty years have proved 
The joy and constancy of wedded love; 
Beside the Merrimac's bright winding stream, 
The years have rolled away — like as a dream. 

Fair Concord — city of their early hopes, 
Life's golden autumn to the westward slopes; 
Forward and backward will they turn today, 
While round their heartstrings will fond memories 
play. 

And Golden Wedding Bells peel glad refrain, 

And Charles is young — a very boy again; 

And fair the maiden standing by his side 

As on that bright May morn — a fair young bride. 

How many happy, pleasant things 
Each season gives them, while it daily brings 
Them nearer to the heavenly mansions where 
The Saviour whom they love will soon prepare. . 

We leave them standing there, hand clasped in hand, 

With hope still pointing to the Better Land; 

And while they listen to the Golden Bells, 

We clasp their hands and give them sweet farewells. 



M 



The Rher Mascoma. gi 

THE RIVER MASCOMA. 

Lebanon, N. H., Aug. 24, '86. 

ASCOMA, fair Mascoma, 

I will sing a song; for thee 



While I rest me by thy side, 
Where the waters softly glide. 

What great secrets dost thou keep 
Hidden in thy channels deep? 
What bright visions dost thou trace 
Mirrored on thy placid face? 

I have heard in days of old, 
Indian maids and warriors bold 
Lived and loved upon thy shore. 
Left a name, but nothing more. 

Whence came they, or whither fled? 
All their legends lost or dead; 
All their cabins burned aflame, 
All have vanished but the name. 

Were these plains the dwelling place 
Of the sachems of the race, 
Where their council fires gleamed bright 
And their war songs woke the night? 

Were these hills the hunting ground 
Where their chieftians oft were found 
Gathered at the close of day, 
Feasting the long night away? 



g2 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Waters whisper from these rills, 
Echoes answer from the hills; 
Ah! their silence seems to say 
They have long since passed away. 

Who shall say, when death drew near 
The Great Spirit did appear, 
Pointing to the western skies 
Where their happy country lies. 

We shall soon all share their fate, 
Wise or simple, proud or great; 
May we when we pass away 
Leave a name as fair as they. 

Still the river hastes along, 
Heeding not my plaintive song, 
Nor that I may nevermore 
Walk again upon it's shore. 



A TRIBUTE TO BETHEL. 



1898. 



ETHEL, beautiful Bethel, 

I bring thee songs of praise; 
I have known thee and have loved thee 

Since childhood's earliest days. 
Among thy hills and valleys 

My forefathers lived and died. 
Their very names I honor, 

And speak of them with pride. 



A Tribute to Bethel. 

The household fires they lighted 

Among these clustering hills, 
And in these smiling valleys, 

Are brightly burning still. 
While o'er our own loved country, 

Where'er her children roam, 
They fondly tell the story 

Of Bethel's early home. 

Bethel, beautiful Bethel, 

May God her children keep, 
And where they tarry for the night 

Watch o'er their peaceful sleep. 
May they behold a ladder. 

Angels ascending there. 
And raise a pillar in His name 

And humbly worship there. 

May they awake, like Jacob, 

And know the Lord is near, 
And in His name shall make a vow 

If God be with them here 
And keep them in the way they go, 

And give them bread to eat. 
Then shall the Lord be their God, 

And all His service sweet. 



93 



97 Home Soni:;s and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

THE GOLDEN WEDDING 

Of Mr. and Mrs. Moses S. Kimball, late of East 
Bethel. 

Avon, Mass., Dec. io, 1895. 

THE far off chime of Golden Wedding Bells, 
Float round these valleys and the mountain 
sides; 
And tell us that the cycle has been run 

By these dear friends, whom distance now divides. 

Distance nor time shall cause us to forget, 

Too long we have enjoyed their friendship sweet; 

Their very names are like to household words. 
Which loving children tenderly repeat. 

They have lived out their threescore years and ten. 
Walking along these common country ways; 

And we had hoped they would return again 
And spend with us the remnant of their days. 

Their joys and sorrows have alike been ours. 

Our faith and hope been strengthened by their 
prayers; 

And now to know we are so wide apart 

Brings grief and sadness to our happiest hours. 

We follow them with hearts of golden cheer, 
To where their children happily abide; 

We feel their comfort is their chief concern, 
And every earthly want may be supplied. 



The Bethel Church CeJifettial. g^ 

Our hearts rejoice that in a world like this, 
Where changes come and brook of no delay; 

Our friends, not old, but even growing young. 
Will celebrate their Golden Wedding -Day. 

From east and west will messages arrive, 

"God bless you" on this fiftieth wedding day; 

Be of good courage for the Lord of hosts 

Still leads and guides you in His own right way. 

Our years and days are hid alike with God, 
He knows full well our weary feeble frame; 

Let us give thanks for mercies past received. 
And ever trust and praise His holy name. 



THE BETHEL CHURCH CENTENNIAL. 

Oct. io, 1899. 
THOU in whom we live and move 
Be with us at this hour. 
And let the people gathered here 
Feel Thy reviving power. 

May all the glory of the past 

Rest on this church today, 
Kindle anew^ a sacred flame 

That burns with fervid ray. 

Let prayers come up before the throne, 

For mercies to our race; 
And all this people join to plead 

His all abounding grace. 



g6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Let songs of melody float forth 
From Bethel's own loved hills, 

And all her valleys catch the strain 
And burst from all her rills. 



Let Androscoggin river bear 

Her message to the sea, 
And tell to many distant isles 

The grace of God is free. 

Let children's children here arise 
And speak their father's praise, 

And in the gladness of their hearts 
New songs of triumph raise. 

And let the seed in weakness sown 
Spring up and fill the land, 

And faithful laborers arise 
For orders waiting stand. 

And may this people tell His love, 
Through all their pilgrim days; 

And close this glad Centennial year 
With joyful songs of praise. 



Birthday Greeting. gy 

A BIRTHDAY SONNET 
For Zilla Howe Bean. 

June 30th, 1899. 

WHY do ye fly so swift, Oh years, 
The truth may dawn too late; 
Today my fiftieth birthday 

Is knocking at the gate; 
And must I let him in, Ah me ! 

He will not go away; 
With promises he flatters me 

Whatever I may say. 
He speaks of happier years. Ah yes! 

Of life's calm golden age; 
What noble heritage is mine, 

Worthy a saint or sage. 
I wonder if I'm old— Oh dear! 
Now I have reached my fiftieth year. 



BIRTHDAY GREETING 

For Mr. J. Tapley Kimball, on his 85th Birthday. 

Middle Intervale, Bethel. 

^HIS happy day we celebrate is full of sweet sur- 
prise. 

It brings a smile to every face, a tear to all ovir eyes, 
To know a loving father and friend is growing old; 
But the influence of his noble life can never well be 
told. 



g8 Home Soni^s and Chronklcs of the Ellis. 

Some few are left to greet him who started on life's 
way 

In flush of youth and manhood, but the most have 
passed away; 

And while our friends are with us, let us all happy be 

And join with hand and heart and voice this birth- 
day jubilee. 

This pleasant home, where you have lived, must to 

your heart be dear, 
What tender memories cling around each swiftly 

passing year. 
When children gathered round your knee asking 

your care and love 
To guide them through life's doubtful ways to that 

blest home above. 

The circle has been broken, all earthly ties must 

part, 
I'hrough every new-born sorrow you have borne a 

faithful heart; 
Have trusted in that precious grace that lifts the 

soul above, 
And whispers to the fainting heart, rest sweetly in 

His love. 

This life, though long or shorter, is bearing us away, 
Not many here perchance may see their eighty-fifth 

birthday; 
What we most care to know is this, what cheers your 

genial heart 
While waiting for the summons from these earthly 

scenes to part. 



Iiisiallafion of the Pili^rim Fathers. gg 

We would not say good bye today, we hope to see 
you here, 

Smiling benignly on these friends for many a happy 
year; 

And while the sunlight gently falls toward the gold- 
en west, 

May every day as it rolls by bring you its very best. 



INSTALLATION OF THE PILGRIM 
FATHERS. 

Hanover, Jan. 1895. 

THESE simple compliments I bring tonight, 
Have never yet beheld such brilliant light; 
And should they fall below your worthy names. 
Why, like John Rogers, give them to the flames. 

When first our Pilgrim Fathers crossed the sea 
To find themselves a place where they might be 
Allowed to live and toil for home and worship God, 
Their longing eyes rested on famed Cape Cod. 

The Mayflower turned her prow to Plymouth's shore, 

And to her rocks her moorings evermore 

Held firm and fast that little Pilgrim band. 

Till now they spread through all our happy land. 

What great discouragements of hope and fear 
Beset them round about that winter drear, 
And tried their souls and led them all to pray 
For strength and courage for the coming day. 



O 



100 Home Soni^s and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

You all have read the story of their fate, 
I need not here their sacrifice relate; 
Enough for us to know they dared to be 
Strong for the right and with equal liberty. 



Never before in east or western world, 

Was such a royal standard e'er unfurled; 

Never again in all our human race, 

Will here be known such trustiness and grace. 

Their very names are dear as household words, 
We v/ould not lose one single minor chord; 
And while kind heaven prolongs our earthly days, 
Let us revere and give them worthy praise. 

This Lodge which entertains us bears their name, 
The Pilgrim Fathers, and they well may claim 
Power to lift the human race 
To higher aims in every sphere and place. 

We hail thee, Prilgrim Fathers, with good cheer. 
Go on inspiring hope from year to year 
In human hearts, teach them a better way 
While age creeps on or riches flee away. 

New England is the Pilgrim Fathers' home. 

And let us hope if any chance to roam. 

Or east or west their lot in life be cast. 

These Plvmouth bands will hold them sure and fast. 



Evergreen Cemetery^ IVestbrook, Maine. loi 

Like theirs, your zeal and fame become world wide, 
Your Lodges everywhere be multiplied; 
All good things be enjoyed by those who make 
The greatest efforts for their loved ones' sake. 

So live and labor for the common weal, 

And in good faith build well from prow to keel; 

And all reach that superlative degree 

That in the other no great faults they see. 

My one regret, please pardon while I state, 
This benefit for me, alas, comes home too late. 
Unless some worthy member, don't you see? 
Shall dedicate his policy to me. 

I know not of your methods or your creed. 
But simply say God bless you and Godspeed; 
Choose the best gifts, your watchword be, excel — 
Most worthy Pilgrim friends, hail and farewell. 



EVERGREEN CEMETERY, WESTBROOK, ME. 

August, 1883. 

WALK in Evergreen one day. 

Brought many fancies into play. 
About the daily life we see, 
And what the future life may be. 



A 



The day was perfect, and the light 
Shone o'er each tombstone warm and bright; 
And flowers were blooming everywhere. 
Lending: a fragrance to the air. 



102 Home Sof/^s ajul Chrou'uies of the Ellis. 

I did not feel a sense of gloom, 
Standing beside a stone or tomb; 
It seemed so sweet, so calm, so fair, 
A child might love to linger there. 

I looked around with pitying eyes. 
To see wherein our sorrow lies; 
When at the close of life's brief day 
We lay our dearest ones away. 

Long time I gazed upon the scene. 
And thought of life's most fitful dream; 
Is this the end — is there no ray 
To light with faith our fleeting day? 

I stretch my hands — I lift mine eyes 
Up to the glorious summer skies, 
And cry aloud, — no voice replies. 
My question in faint echo dies. 

Take courage, soul, hast thou not heard 
What's written in God's Holy Word? 
He gave, He took, He will restore. 
Trust to the Lord forevermore. 

These words brought comfort to my heart, 
I felt no pang of sorrow dart; 
My former doubts and fears were fled. 
With joy I left the sleeping dead. 



Maine Gene7-al Hospital. loj 

MAINE GENERAL HOSPITAL. 

Portland, Me., Summer of 1883. 

BEHOLD ! What lofty buildings rise 
On Bramhall's Hill of massive size, 
Which stand and look abroad with ease, 
Above the neighboring roofs and trees; 
With towers and gables thickly set, 
Upon it's head a coronet 
From which it can far off descry 
The pleasant homes which peaceful lie 
Along its base, and more remote. 
Beyond, the sea fogs lazy float, 
The white robed villages, which seem 
Set round about with living green. 

It stands alone, a beacon light 
Which burns unceasing day and night. 
And gives to all within our State 
The privilege to come and wait 
Beside the gate called Beautiful, 
Or by Bethesda's troubled pool, 
Till they may all a healing see 
From every hurtful malady. 
Here shall the eyes of all the blind 
Be opened, and a healing find. 
And they behold the earth and sky, 
While heaven seems daily drawing nigh, 
And life is full of love and joy 
And pleasures which can never cloy. 
The deaf rejoice that they may hear 
The loving voice of kindred dear. 



I04 Home Songs and Chronicles of ihe EUis. 

And raise their songs and praises high 
To Him who brings the healing nigh. 
The lame man shall leap as an hart, 
Rejoiced that he can do his part 
On life's great battle field, and fight 
For every cause of human right. 
The tongues of dumb people shall sing 
Loud praises to our Heavenly King, 
And voices never heard before 
Repeat his mercies o'er and o'er. 
The sick and suffering shall find cure 
From maladies which they endure, 
The weary day, the anxious night 
Are filled once more with joyous light, 
And hope again fills every breast, 
And hearts rejoice in peace and rest. 

It stands a watchtower, looking down 
Upon the busy bustling town; 
At early dawn it waits to greet 
The first lone traveler on the street, 
Who, in the sun's first cheering ray 
Beholds it's turrets far away, 
And hastens on with words of cheer, 
Rejoiced to find the goal so near. 
Down in the peaceful vales below 
The lowing herds contented go; 
The rising tide sweeps laughing in. 
As if it health and hope would bring 
To cheer our hearts while waiting here, 
And banish every pain and fear. 
Trains, going out and coming in. 



Maine General Hospital. lO^ 

Are hourly passing with their din, 

Bringing the sick with all their pain, 

Or carrying to their homes again, 

Restored to healtli, and glad surprise 

Still lingers in their eager eyes. 

Away upon our southern coast 

Old Orchard lies, our country's boast; 

The glistening waves are often seen 

From Bramhall's heights, while low between 

The old post road, which kept with care 

Will safely bring the traveler there. 

Far to the northward, towering high, 

The Old White Hills in grandeur lie, 

While round about on either hand 

The lesser ones, adoring, stand 

And wait, to do their Monarch's will 

In summer's heat or winter's chill. 

Without a wish or thought to change 

From their own native mountain range. 

So, round about this building here 

The lesser ones, gaze and revere; 

Pride swells the eye, joy fills the heart, 

At giant strides in healing art; 

Long may it's trusted servants wait, 

Like Mordecai, before the gate, 

Until the King shall rise and say, 

"What honor shall be done, I pray. 

Unto the ones that do my will 

And my royal commands fulfill." 

It stands a lighthouse — o'er the bay 
It sends abroad a cheering ray, 



Jo6 Home Songs and Clironicles of the Ellis. 

And when it's form they can descry 
They know the harbor, sure, is nigh 
Where they may safe at anchor ride. 
Securely from the treacherous tide. 
It waits to greet the rising sun, 
When he shall from his chambers come; 
And over Casco's lovely isles 
It looks serenely down and smiles. 

From my west window, I can see 
The sun descend in majesty. 
The purple cloud, the golden ray, 
Which follows on the god of day. 
And lingers there in peaceful calm 
Upon the soul like heavenly balm, 
Until the vision slowly fades. 
And evening creeps along the glades 
And shuts away from our fond sight 
The beauties of the coming night. 
At length upon the horizon far, 
Appears at intervals a star. 
And soon upon the brow of night 
A thousand gem the vaulted height. 
Which sparkle with unnumbered dyes, 
And bend o'er us with pitying eyes. 
And seem to whisper as we gaze: 
"Our Maker well deserves your praise. 
He made and holds us by His power. 
And watches every passing hour. 
Both day and night, in sorrows deep. 
He giveth His beloved sleep." 



EigJity-Fifth Birthday of jfcdcdiah Kimball, roy 

Thus, silent night shuts out the scene 
And leaves the world to rest and dream; 
And quiet reigns, and sweet repose. 
Soothes, calms and drowns our varied woes. 
Long may this noble building stand, 
A monument to all our land. 
Long may our people give their prayers, 
Their bonds, their coupons and their shares. 
And offerings, which daily rise 
To heaven, like olden sacrifice; 
And in the future, long remain 
The central healing port of Maine. 



THE EIGHTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY OF 
JEDEDIAH KIMBALL. 

Held at Byron, Minnesota, July 24, 1893. 

^TT^HE swift revolving wheels of time are bearing us 






away — 



The years grow short and shorter the longer here we 

stay; 
Childhood and youth were long since passed and 

manhood's riper years 
Have all been safely counted in, with their share of 

hopes and fears. 

We will not here recount the way by which they 

have been led, 
How they have toiled in many lands to give them 

home and bread; 



Jo8 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

For well we know a gracious God has kept them all 

the way 
And brought them safely nearer home with every 

year's birthday. 



They have passed the allotted bound of life, the 
three score years and ten, 

And shared the perils of the hour in step with young- 
er men; 

And even now, past four score years, they seem so 
blithe today. 

We all stand round and listen to hear what they may 
say. 

I have tried to write a sonnet and make it young 

and gay; 
It would never do to be gloomy on this eighty- fifth 

birthday. 
So much is lying behind you, the forward glance 

must be 
Full of a joyous brightness, and sweet as sweet can 

be. 

' Tis a long race you have run in, and the mile-stones 
are Hying fast — 

We can hardly believe when you tell us the eighty- 
fifth is rolling past. 

When we look at your stately figure, and the fair 
lady by your side. 

We are slow to believe it is sixty years since she was 
your blushing bride." 



Eighty- Fifth Birthday of Jedediah Kimball. log 

And the toils of those years that have come and 

have gone, 
Have been bravely met and it's trials been borne 
With courage and fortitude, and all the long road 
You have shared with each other in bearing life's 

load. 



We could say the same now on this joyous morn. 
With the growing wheat and the rustling corn; 
Together you watch the bright glowing west, 
And may be you think these good times are the best. 

Many friends who started with you in youth and 

manhood's pride, 
Have grown weary of the journey and are resting 

side by side. 
But today our dear friends are talking of the past or 

present state, 
And their hearts seem young as ever while some old 

joke they relate. 

They have never forgotten the old friends, nor the 

dear old happy time, 
When they gathered a goodly company in their own 

loved native clime; 
And when they set out to find a home in the wilds 

of the far-famed west, 
Every heart in that far off country followed on in the 

earnest quest. 



no HoDie Safigs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Till at last you reached this goodly land, a bright 

and sunny place, 
And felt that here for a season you could rest you in 

life's race. 
You have seen the prairies bloom here and blossom 

as the rose, 
And here have found a peaceful dwelling place, with 

all life's joys and woes. 

And here the children come home again, on your 

eighty-fifth birthday, 
Only one we see is absent from the old hearthstone 

today; 
But loving grandchildren gather round and wish you 

such pleasant things. 
You can almost fancy you can hear the liutter of 

angel's wings. 

And two of your sisters's daughters are met with 

you today 
To greet you and your children and their respects to 

pay 
To the dearest and kindest of uncles and aunt and 

loving cousins; 
We wish for all the choicest gifts and of eagles some 

hundred dozen. 

But it doesn't take gold or silver to bring true hap- 
piness, 

We can try and be contented and never a good time 
miss. 



Tribute to Neal Dow. in 

And all along the journey we can carry such happy 

cheer 
That everyone else may enjoy it, and be worth five 

hundred a year. 

It may be other old time friends will drop in one by 

one, 
We are glad to see them once again and bid them all 

welcome; 
And while the sunlight lingers soft falling to the 

west. 
May the dear Lord grant each birthday the happiest 

and best. 

Good bye. God bless and keep you and lead you by 

the hand 
Through all your pilgrim journey till you reach the 

promised land; 
And when this life is ended, may we all enter in 
And join that great assembly in the palace of the 

King. 



TRIBUTE TO NEAL DOW. 

Andover, April, 1894. 

*HE fame of Neal Dow for long years has been 
sung. 

By many a known, and to us, unknown tongue; 
We are gathered today his name to revere, 
And celebrate at Andover his ninetieth year. 



112 Hcrme So?igs and Chrontdes of the Ellis. 

And who is Neal Dow? I hear some one ask. 

I may not be able to solve the great task; 

He must be some leader of finance or State, 

To stand up at ninety with the good and the great. 

Neal Dow was a man who stood in the fight, 

And dealt his strong sledge blows to left and to 

right. 
For a cause he deemed just and worthy his pen, 
And proclaimed it unflinching, again and again. 

Like some ancient guide post, he pointed the way 
To honor and usefulness, each in his day, 
Where all might attain to virtue and truth 
If the Maine law of Temperance was kept from their 
youth. 

Like Minot's Ledge lighthouse he feared not the 

shock, 
When the storm raged in fury, he was firm as a rock; 
His courage was hopeful, his light never failed, 
After long years of service, the right has prevailed. 

Where are all those young men that stood round 

about. 
While our hero was striving this evil to rout; 
They have fallen and fled in doubt and dismay. 
Not many are living who led on the fray. 

In our late Civil War he was fearless and brave. 

He led on his soldiers our country to save; 

His temperance and judgment, with prudence com- 
bined 

To bring him home conqueror with full powers of 
mind. 



The Old Bufternnt Tree. iij 

No more is he blessed or cursed by the few 

That looked so unkindly when reform came in view; 

At home and abroad he is honored today, 

In the old Temperance cause he still leads the way. 

I doubt if but few of those resolute men 

Held out with much interest to three score and ten, 

But worthy Neal Dow, the world honors today, 

Is a strict temperance man on his ninetieth birthday. 

There are some here today who may know him full 

well 
And affirm every statement I am able to tell. 
We hope he may live and die in this way, » 

And lead on Temperance hosts to his hundredth 

birthday. 



THE OLD BUTTERNUT TREE. 

THE dear old tree stands leaning to the wall, 
It's once proud form which nothing could 
appall 
Is warped and twisted by the winds of time. 
Yet in old age it wears a look sublime. 

It's head in supplication now is bent, 
As listening to a prayer with good intent; 
It's arms are spread out humbly all the day 
In mute appeal, that all things must decay. 



114 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

It's store of fruit for many and many a year, 
To every child held much of winter's cheer; 
They never can forget the bounteous store 
They gathered in, and often wished for more. 

The only thing to lessen my despair: 
Close by thy side are young trees growing there. 
Bearing thy name, like children round the home 
Where they all fondly love to come and roam. 

We honor thee as patriarch of the place. 
While we remember thy long life and grace; 
And hope our lives may ever useful grow 
To serve our race as thou hast done below. 



GOING HOME. 

MAY pleasant thoughts be thine today, 
While journeying to your home; 
And be a never failing quest 
Wherever you may roam. 

May the dear Saviour, who on earth 

Healed all the sick and lame, 
But whisper, "Daughter, go in peace. 

Believing in My name." 

Others will follow, one by one. 

To homes both far and wide; 
And parting here we hope to meet 

Safe on the other side. 

We read that in our Father's house 

Where many mansions be. 
The Saviour has prepared a place 

And waits to welcome thee. 



Lines for a FrieiuVs FiftietJi BirtJiday. 1 1^ 

LINKS FOR A P^RIEND'S FIFTIETH BIRTH- 
DAY. 

AS surely in our onward way, 
As day succeeds to night, 
Will one by one each milestone gray 
Appear upon the sight. 



In childhood's years while blithe and gay, 

We pass them one by one, 
Still dreaming of a happier day. 

When we are older grown. 

And when life's golden age we reach. 

When fifty years are past, 
W'e heed the lesson they would teach, 

Those milestones flying fast. 

Passing away, not one will stay 

To cheer our fading sight; 
One moment, though for it we pray. 

We cannot claim by right. 

But in the better life beyond. 

No milestone there appears; 
A thousand years are but as one, 

A day a thousand years. 



ii6 Home Sojigs and Clij-oiiichs of the Ellis. 

A SONG TO MINNESOTA. 

July 3, 1893. 

THE lands of Minnesota are very fair to see, 
With all it's wealth of beauty it claims a song 
from me; 

With it's far reaching grass lands, it's fields of wheat 
and corn, 

Which today are proudly waving in July's early 
morn. 

It's fields of flax are greeting you with blooms of 
palest blue, 

And barley fields are nodding their prettiest to you; 
Where'er you turn, whate'er you see, the picture is so 

fine. 
If I were but a painter I'd claim them all as mine. 

These lovely groves of dark green trees are pleasant 
to the eye, 

And give to all a grateful shade while summer's roll- 
ing by; 

And when the loud winds answering call, may all the 
people round 

Under their vines and fig trees in security be found. 

The days are long and cloudless, the sun with 
warmth and heat 

Sends out his golden rays of light, the harvest world 
to greet; 

And day by day and hour by hour, nearer and yet 
more near, 

The Bountiful God of the harvest brings out the rip- 
ened ear. 



A Song to Minnesota. iij 

The roads stretch out before you in strange and 

sweet surprise, 
And wild flov/ers spring up left and right, delighting 

all our eyes; 
And when the working hours are past, in the soft 

and balmy air, 
They bring the old-time carriage out and drive 

around the square. 

That land whose every people are growing wise and 

strong. 
Is where our weary longing souls would feast their 

eyes upon; 
Where Truth and Justice, hand in hand, stand by 

each cottage gate, 
And Law and Love and Liberty, with Honor rule 

the State. 

We are charmed with every prospect of the great 

and growing west, 
I could not begin to tell you which I think the very 

best; 
And I sometimes get to thinking if my love should 

be increased, 
I may yet be heard a saying its 'bout equal to the 

east. 

I never yet was known to go back on my native 

hearth, 
I claim it as in olden time, the fairest spot on earth; 
And when I've finished up my work with all life's 

joys and ills, 
I hope to take my last repose among the old Maine 

hills. 



iiH Home Sofigs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

THE CITY OF LINCOLN, NEB. 

Summer of 1893. 

LINCOLN! Fair city of the growing west, 
I see thee in thy summer robes arrayed; 
Thy gardens and thy fields a-bloom with flowers, 
With varied colors to our eyes displayed. 

Methinks you have been set in a large place, 
Most beautiful for sight, for wealth and power; 

With everything to make the home complete, 
If sweet contentment rule the passing hour. 

Thy trees stand round as sentinels by night. 
And in the sunlight give a grateful shade; 

Thy streets are laid with ample length and breadth, 
Thy light, the latest scientists have made. 

Thy homes bespeak of comfort and of cheer. 
Where rest and happiness securly stay; 

Where friends and kindred find a welcome, too. 
And time runs swiftly, as on wings away. 

Schoolhouses beckon from it's outmost bounds. 
Come in. Oh children, learn the precious truth; 

That in the future you may have and hold 

Those precepts you were taught in early youth. 

Thy colleges call out the young and strong 
And teach them how to battle for the right. 

To put down every wrong wherever found, 
And in the cause of Freedom nobly fight. 



Winter Scenes. iig 

Life is a warfare, we ate often told, 

Sin in high places shames the very dust; 

Let youth and manhood strive to do their best 
To guard those interests left to them in trust. 

Thy stately church towers rise from every square, 
And glisten in the morning sun's first ray. 

Proclaiming to the world a purpose true. 
To lead to heaven, as well as point the way. 

Thy State and court houses stand out alone. 
That all may see and point to them with pride; 

And here may all the people freely come 
And find redress for ills on every side. 

We may not see thy city's future growth, 
Nor hear thy praises sung in happy strain; 

But we shall long remember these bright hours, 
And hope to meet all these dear friends again. 



WINTER SCENES. 

WE welcome again the beautiful snow. 
Falling on mountain and valley below; 
Brightening the landscape, bringing good cheer. 
The most charming season of all the glad year. 

We look forward to winter with ice and with snow. 

And lay out many pleasures and places to go; 

When the signs are all right and the roads in their 

prime. 
Oh say! Aren't we having a most lovely time. 



120 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Just after a snow storm what»sights we behold, 
The trees are all laden with all they can hold, 
A swinging and swaying like fair Christmas trees 
And bestowing their gifts with every fresh breeze. 

The roads stretch away thro' fields and thro' moor, 
And range through the forests unheard of before; 
Bringing many far distant places to view, 
And clothing them all with scenery new. 

The mountains take on an appearance sublime 

That never is witnessed in fair summer time. 

All glistening and glowing with the sun's lingering 

ray. 
And reposing in purple when it's beams melt away. 

The rough old log fences seem built with fine art. 
At every rude turn they take a fresh start 
And stretch far away with our following eye. 
To see what new beauties we there can descry. 

When time runs around to a gorgeous full moon, 
O, then don't the hours fly away all too soon. 
When over the hills and valleys we ride 
With our faithful old steed, and old friends by our 
side. 

The Spring-time of life with it's blooms have given 

place 
To Summer's maturer fruitings and grace, 
And Autumn has stored her rich fruits to bestow 
With a lavishing hand while the Winter winds blow. 



Free yojiriieys Aroimd the World. I2i 

We can never forget as the time runs away, 
How Winter could charm us with it's roundelay; 
And now in life's Winter, so cheery and bright, 
Smile over the old scenes with dear friends tonight. 



FREE JOURNEYS AROUND THE WORLD. 
Conducted by Prof. Jack Frost. 

EHAVE taken some wonderful journeys this year 
In the old and new world, which long will ap- 
pear 
To my mind, prophetic of what is in store. 
For those with large fortunes to behold and adore. 

It does not cost money to journey my way, 
No lackeys stand waiting for large or small pay; 
All the sights and the music are free as the air, 
And for royal appointments you get a full share. 

On journeying one morning quite early I found 

The snow through the night had come creeping 

around, 
Hiding up in deep corners, adorning the trees, 
All ready and waiting for some special breeze. 

And there it hung, waiting, swinging in air. 
The prettiest sight, so graceful and fair; 
Waiting and watching and nodding at me 
From every briar bush, hedge row and tree. 



122 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

On one of my journeys a wonderful sight 
Appeared on my vision with morning's first light; 
A fairy toboggan, all silver and gold, 
And a whole troup of riders, some young and some 
old. 

And they were as happy as happy could be. 
And the way they dashed by was surprising to see; 
I sat there and watched till they faded from sight, 
Enjoying each turnout with supremest delight. 

On a time a broad landscape appeared in full view, 
The scenery resplendent with emerald and blue, 
And far in the distance arose loftly towers 
Of palaces royal, hanging gardens of flowers. 

I could scent the perfume wafted slowly along, 
I could catch the soft air of their sweet home song; 
And I knew all it's people were happy and free, 
And I fancied some one a beckoning to me. 

One morning it seemed a wide ocean's expanse, 
And many fine ships so gallantly danced 
Upon it's fair waters — how swiftly they sped, 
With every sail set and the flag overhead. 

And a very fine cargo of silver and gold. 

And as many rich people as their good ships could 

hold; 
And I caught this refrain as they passed out of sight, 
"We may come sailing back some other cold night." 



Free jfoiirneys Around the World. i2j 

One morning such glorious mountains appeared, 
I knew they were Alps by what I had heard, 
And towering above stood the great Matterhorn 
Stretching to it's full height, with the sun's early 

dawn, 
While the rest of the range stood calmly and looked 
As you may have seen in some Swiss picture book. 

One morning the skies seemed peopled with things 
That had neither form, comeliness, or yet even 

wings. 
And as I sat wondering what they could all be 
Some wise person whispered quite softly to me, 
"They are new fangled air-ships from over the sea." 

Such grand and beautiful sights I have seen; 
Churches, cathedrals beyond mortal dream. 
Carriages, horses, outriders and all. 
Driving over deep glaciers with never a fall; 
Every one stood out in their own true place. 
And the very last one beat all in the race. 

And would you believe, Mt. Zircon stood out, 
All bristling with guns and lances to rout 
The enemy marching right straight up it's side, 
Never once looking backward whatever betide; 
And when the last soldier stood safe on the top. 
It gave a side lurch and the whole army dropped. 



124 Ho77ie Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The very best journey must wait over, until 
You call some fine morning at old Orchard Hill; 
When the bright laughing sunlight looks in from the 

east, 
And then I will give you a royal good feast. 
And take you all flying over picturesque Maine 
With Professor Jack Frost on my own window pane. 



LINES ON PRESENTING A WATCH TO REV. 
WILLIAM HYDE. 

Weymouth, Mass., 1895. 

ROTHPLR, watch, the golden morning 
With it's youthful dream is past. 
And the future years before thee. 
Claim from thee thy noblest task. 

Brother, watch, the noontide splendors 

Soon will fall upon your way; 
Gird your armor for life's conquests. 

Teach the world to watch and pray. 

Brother, watch, the evening shadows 

On the wings of time doth fly; 
Go ye therefore, teach all nations 

How to live and how to die. 

Brother, watch, time will not tarry, 

Years and days will quickly run; 
Fill each hour with loving service, 

Watch until your Lord doth come. 



A 



Friend Amy's Home. 12^ 

FRIEND AMY'S HOME. 

Weymouth, Mass, 187 i. 
LITTLE cottage shaded o'er 



With ivy and the vine. 
And fragrant flowers around the door, 
By loving hands entwined. 

And stately trees and leafy bowers 
Where bright birds love to roam 

Or rest, and sing their evening hymn; 
And this was Amy's home. 

A blest retreat, where loving friends 
Freed from the day's dull care. 

Would often meet the little group 
And hold sweet converse there. 

Or sing, perchance, some dear old tune 

We loved so long ago. 
Before our hearts had learned to doubt 

The truths this world bestows. 

Or listen to some story quaint 
Stored in the old sire's mind, 

Of good old times and joys and loves, 
And the days of "Auld Lang Syne." 

Oh, fairy night — Oh, lovely moon. 
Still shine o'er Amy's home; 

And guard the vine-clad cottage well. 
For many years to come. 



126 Home So7igs a?id Chronicles of (he Ellis. 

And when this house shall fail below, 
Dear Saviour lead them o'er 

To mansions in the Father's house, 
Safe on the further shore. 



IN REMEMBRANCE OF BABY AMY 
CHESSMAN. 

Weymouth, Mass., 1870. 

lABY is dead, we know — 
And given back to Him from whence she came; 
And yet we tell of all her winning ways. 
And fondly call her by her earthly name. 

Baby is dead, we know — 

We miss her every hour and every day; 
And sometimes fancy we can hear her call. 

And turn to look and whisper, "gone away." 

Baby is dead, we know — 

We feel sometimes it may be for the best. 
But yet the stroke was heavy, hard to bear 

And kiss the rod and lay her down to rest. 

Baby is dead, we know — 

Her little carriage stands beside the door, 
Her empty chair stands in its usual place; 

We call in vain, she will come, nevermore. 

Baby is dead, we know — 

Her dainty garments decked with colors bright 
We dim with tears, forgetting for the while 

She is an angel now in realms of light. 



In Mevioriatn. 12^ 

Baby is dead, we know — 

And from her heavenly home, a little hand 
Lets softly down to lift us up from earth, 

And guide us safely to the "Better Land." 



IN MEMORIAM. 

To my Friend Columbia Kimball on the death of her 

Sister, Miss Juliette Kimball. 

GENTLY, so gently, bear her on her way. 
Back to her childhood's home bear her cold 
clay. 
Where all the loved ones dwell, there let her sleep, 
Sleep till that morning, peacefully sleep. 

Her work is ended, her sufferings are o'er, 
She will come back to her home nevermore; 
Angels watch over her, there let her sleep. 
Sleep till that morning, peacefully sleep. 



VISIT OF MISS ANNIE STOCKBRIDGE 
To the old home in Byron, Maine. 

Sept. 1898. 

EHAVE looked today on the childhood's home 
Of my father, who loved it so dear. 
And have tried to picture what they enjoyed 
While living and toiling here. 

In those happy days of the long ago. 
Contentment and plenty, we're told. 

Dwelt in these lovely valleys we see 
By these rugged mountains bold. 



128 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

They hardly thought of the world beyond, 

Serenely their years rolled by, 
And here on the hillside, warm and brown, 

The forefathers in silence lie. 

The same old mountains keep guard around, 

As in the days of long ago; 
And I fancy myself how grand they must look 

Covered o'er with ice and snow. 

'I'he lovely ponds nestling at their feet. 

Looking calm and blue today, 
Were wont to echo the happy songs 

Of the boys and girls at play, 

I hear no sound of their pleasant voice. 

No echo comes back again; 
And while I stand gazing far and near 

My heart gives a throb of pain. 

And strangers sit at the dear tireside, 
But my treasures they cannot claim, 

For the early life that was lived out here 
Can never come back again. 

The dear old scenes of my father's time 

Are spread out before me today, 
The old house, the garden, the orchard and well, 

But no longer life's fair young May. 

I shall carry my treasures one by one. 

My memory holds them all dear; 
I thank kind Heaven for the Providence 

That watched over them many a year. 



The Old Home at Andover. i2g 

THE OLD HOME AT ANDOVER. 

July 17, 1896. 

LET me come back to the old home once more, 
Let me sit here in the old cottage door; 
Look on these hills and valleys again, 
Though in the pleasure is mingled a pain. 

It is the same, and yet not the same, 
Here were the fields of corn and of grain. 
There where the rocks, the bees, and the flowers 
Held me enchanted many long hours. 

Ah fair, passing fair, they rise on my sight, 
Everything gives my fond heart delight; 
Years filled with happiness, days full of glee. 
In memory's storehouse treasured for me. 

Here is the brook where in boyhood I played, 
Here is the seat in the old birch's shade. 
Where I sat dreaming of life and of fame; 
Here is the tree where I once carved my name. 

Here is the field where clover once grew, 
How it has shrunken since gone from my view; 
Are my eyes dim with Time's lengthening ray? 
Is this the old home I visit today? 

Here are the trees I planted with care. 
Thinking the fruit with my friends I would share; 
They have been scattered this many a year, 
Down on my cheek I can feel a warm tear. 



/JO Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

As I look over these dearly loved scenes, 
Count all the years that have rolled in between, 
The thought will come home, if the truth must be 

told, 
It really may be that I'm growing old. 

Hark! On my ear falls a murmuring sound, 
"Papa, dear papa, I'm so glad you are found." 
"Yes, my dear boy, I am dreaming you see. 
All my old friends have been talking to me." 

Ah yes, we will go. I must bid them farewell; 
In this dear old spot I may nevermore dwell; 
The last rays of sunlight fell rosy and bright. 
And the father and son whispered softly, "Good 
nigrht." 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF MR. AND MRS. 
NATHAN S. LUFKIN, CARIBOU, MAINE. 

Elizabeth A. Howe. 
Sept. 17, 1845. Sept. 17, 1895. 

WHAT means this happy gathering 
In the dear old home today; 
What means the merry voices 

Of the children at their play, 
In the pleasant autumn sunlight 

That September afternoon. 
When one can almost fancy 
It was a day in June. 



The Golden Wedding. jji 

The lofty mountains bent their heads 

In brightest colors dressed; 
The lovely valleys sweetly smiled, 

Decked in their very best; 
The apple trees stood listening round, 

To catch the happy strain, 
Of these dear friends, who nevermore 

Might wander there again. 

The dear old brook sang sweet and low, 

When by its side they strayed 
To say good bye to every nook. 

Where they in childhood played. 
And while they lingered by its side, 

Their thoughts ran with the stream, 
That they today perchance might see 

And in the future dream. 

From out the quaint old farm house 

A cry floats on the air: 
"Behold the bridegroom cometh." 

Go forth to meet him there, 
And give him royal welcome; 

He comes to claim his bride, 
A winsome country maiden 

Stands smiling by his side. 

The man of God pronounces 

The rite that makes them one; 
With friends' and parents' blessing 

Life's journey is begun. 



IJ2 Home Softgs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

And hand in hand we see them 

Set out in earnest quest, 
Their little home an Eden, 

True love a welcome guest. 

She leaves her happy home and friends 

Most gladly to bestow 
Her future to his keeping, 

With him toiling below; 
And strong in youth and beauty, 

What aught have they to fear; 
With hopeful, trustful, loving hearts. 

And five hundred a year. 

With loving hearts we follow them 

Along life's changing way. 
While little children gather 

Around them day by day; 
Sharing in every blsssing 

That falls to their estate. 
And with the happy passing years 

They reach the Silver Gate. 

They linger here beside the way 

With smiling tear-lit eyes. 
And backward gaze if happily 

Some forgotten scene may rise. 
Once more beside the laughing brook 

They walk with youthful feet. 
And all their dear old friends again 

In loving friendship greet. 



The Golden Wedding. 

Out from the east the happy chime 

Of Golden Wedding Bells, 
Comes floating on the wings of time, 

Among these hills and dells. 
Voices are calling, calling, 

I hear them softly say, 
"Are there none to remember 

Fifty years ago today?" 

Ah, yes, some few remember 

That happy wedding day, 
And send you kindly greeting 

To cheer you on your way. 
And for your sons and daughters 

And dear grandchildren all. 
We pray the richest blessings 

Of Heaven may ever fall. 

We fondly hope the Golden Chime 

Will never pass away, 
But sing a song of sweet content 

E'en to life's latest day; 
And may the dear God bless you, 

And lead you safely on 
To meet the dear loved friends again. 

Parted on earth so long. 



134 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH. 

Lines written on the death of Abbie Howe, in her 
seventeenth year. 

^ Hanover, Me., Nov. 29, 1899. 

EAR her to her rest. 

In her beauty and bloom; 
Scatter lilies and roses 

Over her tomb; 
No whiter or purer 

Than her marble brow, 
Scatter them lovingly 
Over her now. 

Bear her to her rest. 

She hath fallen asleep, 
Why make ye this ado? 

Why dost thou weep? 
Sweetly she sleepeth, 

'Tis the dear Father's will; 
May these words bring you comfort, 
For in Him she lives still. 

Bear her to her rest. 

We shall follow her soon; 
The summons may call us, 

At morning or noon; 
Oh watch and be faithful, 

He is able to keep 
Our dearly loved ones 

Who have fallen asleep. 



Wedding Bells. ij^ 

WEDDING BELLS. 

Charles D. Howard and Pearl A. Robertson of Ellis 
River, by Rev. Mr. Waterworth. 

Sept. 9, 1899. 

WHEN fair September days had come 
With all her fruit and flowers; 
We heard the Merry Wedding Bells 
Ring out the happy hours. 

The sweet sounds lingered round the place, 
Grown with their love more dear; 

And here we hope their home may be 
For many a passing year. 

We wish them every joy that earth 

Can to her children give; 
And Heaven's rich blessing day by day. 

Attend them while they live. 

And may these Happy Wedding Bells 

Ring out a sweeter song, 
And on each anniversary day 

The joyful sound prolong. 



Ij6 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

A WEDDING CHIME. 

For our friends, Edwin S. Cummings and Katherine 
N. Elliott, by Rev. G. B. Hannaford. 

Nov. 15, 1899. 

WEDDING Bells are sweetly chiming, sweetly 
chiming. 
Round about these snow crowned hills; 
Wedding Bells are sweetly chiming, chiming. 

Love and joy each fond heart fills. 
While within the dear old home, 
Friends and kindred hither come 
To the marriage feast today. 

See the maiden young and fair, 

See the gallant lover there, 

Smiling while the Wedding Bells 

Future hope and joy foretells, 

While the bridegroom claims his bride. 

May the Wedding Bells sweet chime 
Two young hearts in union twine. 
Pledged today with hand and heart. 
By each one till death doth part. 

May the years as they come round 
Swell the Wedding Bells' sweet sound, 
And linger in our hearts for aye. 



The Fortieth Wedding Afiniversary. ijj 

THE FORTIETH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 
of Mr, and Mrs. Henry M. Abbott, Ellis River. 

FORTY years ago in the pleasant Autumn time, 
Some few old friends may remember the happy 
Wedding Chime; 
While the merry song of the cricket among the ripen- 
ing grain. 
And the murmur of the river sang aloud a sweet re- 
frain. 

The river still rolls onward to its destined home, the 
sea, 

You too are hastening onward to your home that is 
to be; 

•And still the cricket's happy song falls on your lis- 
tening ear. 

While your children and grandchildren gather round 
with happy cheer. 

And should you stay among us till you reach the 
Golden Gate, 

May fortune smile upon you while you with joy re- 
late 

To the dear old friends who greet you upon that gala 
day, 

The happiness and pleasure of your Fortieth Wed- 
ding Day. 



Ij8 Home Songs atid Chronicles of the EUis. 

THE EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF MRS. 
HANNAH MARTIN ABBOTT. 

Celebrated by a company of eighty relatives, friends 
and neighbors. 

Ellis River, June 2, 1882. 

ANOTHER fair June day 
Is opening to my view, 
Though I am eighty years today 
The scene is fresh and new. 

I thank the blessed Lord 

That keeps me day by day. 
And leads me by His own right hand 

Through all my pilgrim way. 

I still can see His love 
, In every leaf and flower, 
The countless blessings of His hand 
Unfolding every hour. 

I still can hear the songs 

Of birds among the trees; 
The gentle murmur of the brook. 

Borne on the evening breeze. 

I still can taste and see 

How good my Lord has been. 
In granting all these gifts to me, 

Long past three-score and ten. 



The Eightieth Birthday. ijg 

I still can smell the sweets 

Of odors wafted by, 
And wonder if such rich perfumes 

In lands enchanted lie. 

I still can feel His love 

My throbbing heart inflame, 
And still adore His matchless grace, 

And praise His holy name. 

And I can well conceive 

The love of Christ, my Lord, 
And plead His precious promises 

In His most Holy Word. 

I still have kindred friends 

To love and care for me, 
A peaceful home where flowering vines 

Cling to it tenderly. 

I still sit 'neath the trees 

I planted long ago. 
Whose spreading branches o'er me now 

A grateful shadow throw. 

And looking out today 

On all this prospect fair. 
My heart is filled with joy and peace 

The proud world cannot share. 

I calmly watch and wait, 

Whate'er the season be. 
Till a more glorious day shall break 

Eternally for me. 



140 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

TRIBUTE TO SULLIVAN R. HUTCHINS. 

A Soldier of the Civil War. 
'HE bugle calls from all these hills and valleys, 
We gather once again, bringing May's fair- 
est flowers; 
And with united hearts, most loyal, true and tender. 
We consecrate anew these few memorial hours. 

The bugle calls, — the past is gone forever. 

No more to be enacted in this happy land and age; 

But some of us here present remember well the story, 
Which others haply read today upon fair histories' 
page. 

The bugle calls, — let us arouse to duty. 

And while 'tis called today lift up our feeble voice; 
And to these waiting veterans, a willing hand ex- 
tending. 
Bid them be of good courage and in present hours 
rejoice. 

The bugle calls, — calls home to every comrade; 

The last dread enemy to be destroyed is death, 
Which you must fight alone, and only will you con- 
quer 
Through Him whose love and power and grace 
giveth both life and breath. 

The bugle calls, — let each one be found ready. 

Whene'er the Captain's call shall fall upon the ear; 

Present your faithful arms in humble supplication, 
And to your worthy names let each one answer, 
"Here." 



A Fireside Reverie, 147 

A FIRESIDE REVERIE. 

WHAT dost thou see in the bright firelight? 
What are you gazing at, tell us tonight; 
How many merry maidens like thee, 
Have built fairy castles by mountain and sea. 

How many cities with mansions and towers, 
Have these embers brought out in life's happy hours? 
How many journeys have we been far and near, 
By the old fireside, when we were all here? 

Where have they all journeyed, Oh tell me, I pray; 

So few gather round on this Thanksgiving day; 

But I know their thoughts wander to that happy 

time, 
While they tell their dear children of days, "Auld 

Lang Syne." 

We will keep the fire burning, and send out its light. 
While we gather them all by our hearthstone tonight; 
And the past and the present in memory hold dear, 
While we talk of our future meeting next year. 



EVENING. 

THE year is drawing to a close, 
With all its varied care. 
And silence falls with gentle hush 
Upon the evening air. 



142 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

The last beams of the Autumn sun 

Are lingering on the hills, 
And in the valleys rise a mist, 

Guarding the peaceful rills. 

The winds are hushed in sweet repose, 

At this calm evening hour; 
And looking on the peaceful scene 

We feel a Sovereign power 

That watches o'er the universe, 
Both when we wake or sleep, 

And through the darkness of the night 
Will all earth's children keep. 

And in this confidence I trust, 

And close my weary eyes. 
And dream of happier, fairer lands, 

Beyond the western skies. 



THE PICNIC. 

THE Ellis River on a Picnic would go. 
Without any regard to the weather bureau; 
And whether the project was foolish or wise, 
It drew plentiful tears straight out from the skies. 

The first thing on reaching Hanover town, 
Was a runaway horse with a lady in brown; 
And excepting a little wholesome fright, 
The lady escaped from the racket all right. 



The Picnic. 



143 



The next thing was a shaking of hands all around 
With our cousins and aunts and friends out of town; 
And watching the groups of belles and the beaux, 
And wondering if Snooks would dare to propose. 

There were people gathered from all over Maine, 
And a few I am told from the old Bay State came, 
And all had the freedom of nice country places, 
With a kind invitation to join in the races. 

The grounds were in order, Dame Nature had laid 
Her carpet of moss in the pine woody shade; 
The sun peeping through seemed to whisper and say, 
"I hope you will have a fine time today." 

So we spread out our dinners beneath the old trees. 
And some of us even got down on our knees. 
And fell to and ate beans, pickles and pie, 
Till a halt was called out from a lowering sky. 

And whether time, or a wager, we all tried to gain. 
Our plans were held up by a sprinkling of rain. 
And our baskets were hustled up into a line, 
And some of us missed getting a taste of the wine. 

We hope, however, that all had enough; 
There was a variety of nice fruit and stuff; 
When the Ellis arises he never sits down 
Without a good puff for his own native town. 

The minister worked well to keep all in their places 
By being the umpire in most of the races; 
But I heard it said in the great potato game, 
Both sides had an equal share of the blame. 



144 Home Songs and Chro?iicles of the Ellis. 

And in the rope contest both sides pulled out well, 
But which was the better, no one there could tell; 
First one side, then the other, seemed ready to beat, 
When, lo ! the weak side beat a hasty retreat. 

It was really the funniest part of the play. 

The old men and deacons joined in the fray. 

And the children all joined with their noise and 

shout. 
And all the young ladies helped the weakest side out. 

The rain hung around like a bashful lover. 
To see what new charms he there might discover; 
And hovered close to the ball game racket. 
And sent them all flying to put on their jackets. 

At last the rain drove them into the barn. 
Where they were all safe from cold and from harm; 
And instead of sitting down beaten and meek, 
I am told they all played the old game. Hide and 
Seek. 

I heard of one lady in meditative mood. 

That was left all alone in the old pine wood 

In a big arm chair till late in the day. 

When some gay gallant came and took her away. 

You never can tell what a Picnic will do 
Till you start one a rolling and help push it thro'; 
We trust no one present will ever forget 
The friends who stood by them and the dinner they 
ate. 



Rui7iford Grange Field Day. 145 

The next time the Ellis arises to go 

Out of town on a Picnic, I hope he will know 

That the very best thing to take in the start 

Is a fair smilino" morning with couragre of heart. 



RUMFORD GRANGE FIELD DAY. 

June 17, 1892. 
HIS is the day we celebrate, 



The Granger's great Field Day, 
And all it's one and thousand friends. 
Welcome as flowers in May. 

These grand old mountains smile on you. 

In dress-parade attire. 
And all the bean pots at command 

Are hissing near the fire. 

xA.ll Ellis River welcomes you, 

And takes you by the hand. 
And wishes you a lovely time 

Among this joyous band. 

Time was when rich men and esquires 

Were held in great renown; 
Today, before the farming world, 

The greatest men bow down. 

And farmers too, are rising fast. 

They stand on every square, 
And when the spoils are gathered in 

They claim an equal share. 



/^d Home Soni^s and C/ironides of the Ellis. 

And farmers' wives are growing bold 
Throughout our loyal State, 

You'll find them everywhere today 
Where people congregate. 

And farmers' sons stand side by side 
With neighboring city swells, 

You'll see them making love today 
To our sweet country belles. 

And farmers' daughters will compare 

With any in the land; 
We hear that lords and marquises 

Are suing for their hand. 

Our bachelors are hanging back 

In many a noble cause; 
We trust they'll find their proper place 

When women make the laws. 

And when you celebrate next year, 

And credit hope to win. 
Hang all your loftiest banners out 

And call the old maids in. 



A Fourth of ynly Oration. 14'/ 

A FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 
On the Ellis River, 1S99. 

EVERY year when the Fourth of July comes 
around, 
We all spring to our feet, look about, and sit down. 
Fold our hands complaisantly, one and all. 
The wise and the simple, the great and the small, 
And say to ourselves, "Where, Oh where shall we 

meet, 
And where are the ones to give us a nice treat?" 

We ask these stale questions from sheer force of 

habit. 
And are answered this year by our friends, Walter 

Abbott 
And his estimable wife, no prouder or wiser 
Was a man ever blessed with as helper and adviser. 
This bright sunny spot has been their chief care 
Since they started out life's blessings to share. 
And we hope they will never far away stray, 
But grow richer and happier every new day. 

They have laid out these grounds with a great deal 

of skill. 
And deserve from us all our esteem and good will; 
And Dame Nature has given us a grateful shade. 
And a carpet of green for our feet has been laid; 
Wild flowers and shrubs are everywhere; 
And if you please we will now prepare 
To give to our host and hostess a yell, — 



14^ Home Songs and C/ironicIes of the Ellis. 

Now, all hands — hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! 
That will send the echoes o'er hill and dell, 
And awaken our slumbering powers to see 
The joys of our country's liberty. 

I had thoughts to decline your late invitation. 

And listen to some other Fourth of July pre-oration; 

You have all heard me say I would take no back 

seat. 
And never confess my voice had a squeak; 
And here on this glorious Fourth of July 
I stand out today and the Ellis defy. 

The first thing in order to my mind appears, 

Is to give this happy day three rousing cheers, 

Now all hands — hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! 

That's well done my friends, strong, willing and 

hearty; 
We may now call ourselves a well organized party. 

The next thing I speak of is our lovely stream. 

Which meanders along like a mid-summer dream. 

The Ellis to every occasion will rise. 

It never was known to be took by surprise; 

It is always seeking some stronger power; 

It never was known to idle an hour; 

Year in and year out it hastens along, 

Every new season singing the same old song. 

We call the Ellis our pride and joy; 
Some one may recall the daring boy 



A Fourth of July Oration. 14^ 

Taking his first swim by its sandy side, 
And boldly reaching the other side. 
Wherever you find those boys today, 
Beside the Ellis they'll fondly stray; 
And in memory live the old times o'er; 
For those happy days give three cheers more, 
Now all hands — hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! 

I will only point to our mountains grand, 

You will see at once how firm they stand; 

How proudly they lift their heads to the breeze. 

What a fine array of native trees; 

How content they seem with their humble lot, 

You will find each one in the same old spot; 

Today they beckon and call to you, 

"To life and its duties be true, be true." 

There is one thing we prize of our earthly joys, 
And that is our complement of nice girls and boys; 
We laugh and grow young and giddy again, 
While we join with them in some Fourth July game; 
And live over again the far away time 
When we like them were in fair spring-time. 

These homes in the valley, how great is their worth; 

To what noble heroes have they given birth. 

Our fathers and grandfathers lived to the close 

Of life, and now rest here in peaceful repose. 

Our grandmothers too, God bless the old dames. 

Whom we honor today, some of us bear their names; 

We ne'er can recount the good they have done 

If we stand here and talk till going down of the sun, 

And we hope their blessing rests on us today; 

To their happy country we are all on the way. 



/JO Home Songs and Chronihs of the Ellis. 

To the fathers and mothers of the Ellis today, 
We give royal greeting, forever and aye; 
We are proud to number them all as our friends. 
No distance or time disenchantment lends. 

We rejoice with our neighbor in every good 

That comes to him, as neighbors should. 

And weep with them when trouble is near. 

Are ready to offer a word of cheer. 

And wish every one riches, honors, renown. 

And should they desire the first places in town. 

Or if they to higher aspirations are bent, 

May they, if it please you, be our next president; 

And while we're about it give three rousing cheers, 

Now all hands — hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! 

These charming old spots wlicre we often have met, 
Hold many fond memories we cannot forget; 
The brook babbling by, the rocks and the trees, 
Where we flung out our stars and stripes to the 

breeze; 
The music, the laughter, repartee and jest. 
With our country cousins and friends we like best. 

To enjoy a fine dinner so dainty and rare. 
Was ever one known with this one to compare. 
We hope to meet you here next Fourth of July; 
' Tis time to be going, good bye, friends, good bye. 
Three cheers for the Abbotts, the day and the river, 
All hands — hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, forever! 



.7 Raihhuii Shol. /j-y 

A RANDOM SHOT. 

Written for Rumford Centre Grange. 

TT'M going to send a random sliot 
'^ At a venture around the Grange; 

And simply a visitor with you today, 
Propose a radical change. 

'Tis a common subject, commonly told. 

About our good ways of living; 
The men all the moneys to have and to hold, 

Do the buying, the selling, the giving. 

And if a time comes when a woman desires 

To spend but just one little penny. 
She looks so dejected and shyly around. 

For she knows she never has any. 

Now what is the reason, I ask you here; 

Hasn't she wisdom and powers of discretion? 
Or must she be hampered all through her life, 

And never this vexed subject mention. 

Do the ladies like it? Of course they do not, 

Just try it yourselves and you'll see; 
Let them take the purse for one little month, 

And pass your reports in to me. 

There are men here today who have seen often- 
times 

A woman step into the store, 
Make purchases wise and pay for the same. 

Be politely bowed out of the door. 



1^2 Home So7igs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Another would enter, look timidly round, 
Her case you could not understand; 

I must certainly tell you, you never could guess, 
She has not a cent in her hand. 

She stands and waits till her lord appears. 
And tremblingly says, "Do you think 

You could just afford me a new calico?" 

But he sharply says, "That stuff will shrink." 

And so they go quietly out, and the door 

Shuts to with a doleful bang; 
And every woman here today 

That woman's heart understands. 

Is it right, is it just, I would ask you good friends. 
Who has helped earn your homes and your gold? 

Who else, in every time of need 

Could your households direct and control? 

And shall it be said she has no right 

To have, or to hold, as her dower 
An opinion, a pleasure, or privilege, 

Or a voice in the money power? 

Oh question me not, good friends, why I'm single, 

I would not attempt to make you understand; 
But I think if I'd married I would still like to 
carry 
My own well earned money in my trusty right 
hand. 



Ellis River Literary Union. i^j 

I would like to have you for the next thousand 
days 

Let the women folks have their full sway, 

With the purse and the rake and the scrubbing 
brush, 

And then look around your home way. 

And see how cheery the world would look, 

What comforts fall into your way; 
And every one here would pardom me 

F'or the random shot given today. 



ELLIS RIVER LITERARY UNION. 
The President's Message. 

Dec. 13, 1892. 

WHOEVER yet heard in any clime 
The President's Message appearing in rhyme; 
The Ellis River this queer statement makes. 
And tonight calls out loudly, "Bring on your nice 

cakes. 
And pass them around to every guest, 
And have the committee decide which is best." 

The making of cakes is like making of lines. 
One must well understand the mixing of kinds: 
Or else when all has been said or been done, 
Our cakes won't pan out as well as begun. 

The President thinks of the hopes and the fears 
That may drop down on him in the space of four 

years; 
But we have only one year of such doubt, 



/j7 Home Songs and Chronicles of the Ellis. 

Before half of that time I may be turned out, 
Because, forsooth, I have trangressed some law 
By trying to get the whole power in my paw. 

Great questions before the President are laid, 
Some white as the snow, others darker in shade; 
But over them all he must cast his right eye. 
And sign them or veto, his reasons tell why; 
Not only our country but others as well 
Are listening to hear our United States Bell 
Call all her people to do just their best 
For earth or for heaven and trust God for l he rest. 

I am glad you are listening to what I may say. 
Let us all pull together and pull the same way; 
We are not called upon to pull up the stream. 
But we must look out for the mote or the beam. 
The story is found in the good old book, 
Perhaps we had all better give it a look. 
That we may not condemn poor Mary or Martha, 
Or pass our opinions on our little party. 

It seems to me now we have only smooth sailing, 
Our boat Enterprise will not need any bailing; 
She will carry as many as can be put on, 
And as she moves forward we will sing a glad song. 

Three cheers for Ellis River inventions, 

We are pleased to see you in our kitchen conventions; 

We hope to find the latch strings all out 

When we get under way on our Literary route; 

As we glide down the stream of time, or the river. 



The Closing Session of the Literary Union. /Jj 

We hope no one will be timid or quiver. 

We want every one to rejoice and be glad 

And tell all their friends the good times we've had; 

And may every meeting be full of good cheer, 

And our Union prosper the coming year. 



THE CLOSING SESSION OF THE LITERARY 
UNION. 
Ellis River, Dec. i6, 1893. 
^HE year is growing darksome and old, 

The trees stand out barren, lifeless and cold' 
The orchards and meadows are robed all in white, 
Jack Frost is abroad on a mission tonight; 
And it is a pleasure he'd not like to miss. 
To catch some young lady and give her a kiss. 

Like our dear old friend Jack, I've come out tonight 
To start off this Union both safely and right; 
For you all well know we've had very fine times 
Eating our own cakes, reading our own rymes. 

Of course you all know my term has expired. 
With all those devices by which I'm admired; 
And now it devolves upon my successor, — 
Here's hoping you choose a wiser and better, 
One better adapted to winning of races, 
Or leading your thoughts to the Muses and Graces; 
Keep everything moving along in good order, 
And things more of interest haply discover. 
That we may all grow in wisdom and graces. 
And all do our best to serve in our places. 



Ij6 Home So)igs and Chronicks of the Ellis. 

One must not expect in these latter days 
To be flattered or stuffed with unmeaning praise. 
We hope every one will feel it their duty, 
Whatever the cause, to respect age and beauty; 
And not stand and wait for the good time coming. 
But work with a will and keep things a humming; 
And while old Boreas sweeps down o'er the hills, 
Let us keep the ball rolling and pay our own bills. 

I see my dear friends are standing about. 
So I'll make my adieus and bow myself out, 
First thanking this body for all their endeavor 
To give me fair field as well as fair favor. 

Let us hope that the days and weeks as they fly 
Will bring naught but blessings as they hurry by; 
Good bye to the old year, we'll welcome the new, 
With the kindest of wishes I bid you adieu. 



ORATION AT HUTCHINS' GROVE. 

North Rumford, July 4, 1892. 

AT daybreak this morning I said to myself, 
Miss Lucretia T. Howe come down from your 
shelf; 
You are not surely thinking to be perched high and 

dry 
In your own native town on the Fourth of July. 

At sunrise I stood looking anxious around, 
But not a single idea could be found; 
I thought it no use to stand there a wishing. 
So with old Isaac Walton I went off a fishins:. 



Oration at Hutchim' Grove. i^y 

We took what long has been known as Howe's brook, 

And in its clear waters by hook or by crook, 

We managed to land a nice kettle of fish. 

Which I will serve up in a silver-lined dish; 

All who are in favor please to say, I, 

When I will proceed the whole string to fry. 

When eight bells rang I had barely time 
To wheel my fishes and thoughts into line; 
And should you find a break in the story, 
I would say I'm not talking for honor or glory. 

Some one may have told you that I took the cake 
At Rumford Grange Field Day, but that's a mistake; 
I never took it at all, at all. 
The field was too wide, my potatoes too small, 
And I scattered my shot, now here, now there, 
With never a point scored anywhere. 

I might have told them, Rumford men 
W^ere as good as were found in the human pen. 
And that the fame of their wives and daughters 
Had spread far beyond "the Father of Waters;" 
And that Maine's sons stood on every shore. 
Looking for worlds to conquer more. 

I might have told them to stick to the farm; 
Paint up the old house, square up the old barn; 
And if they would all grow wiser and richer, 
And make the old farm pay, they'd just got to ditch 

her. 
And feed her on something better than slops 



1^8 Hoi7ie Songs a?id Chronicles of the Ellis. 

If they would draw in a rich harvest "of crops. 
Trade all their fast horses for good honest plows; 
Make long and deep furrows as the Maine law 

allows; 
Clear out all the corners and fill up the hollows, 
If they would rake in the almighty dollars; 
And all of the people get down off their stilts, 
Men stick to the soil, women spin their own quilts; 
And send Paul Revere riding over the town 
To put every treasonable question down; 
And hang all the croakers and false alarms 
With their hue and cry of abandoned farms; 
And teach all the children their nursery rhymes. 
If they would again see the good old times. 

I'd like the old farm with all of its cares. 

If a man could be found to help run it on shares; 

There's only two encumbrances on it, 

Though some people say they wear bees in their 

bonnet; 
And with the honest face of a Quaker, 
And the honest charms of Miss Betsy Baker; 
I fear the old farm will have to go. 
Because no such man can be found in the show. 



Upon a time, and I might say once, 
Children came flocking to town in a bunch, 
I grew up myself in a nest of eleven; 
I had to knit my own stockings at seven, 
And help milk the cows at ten and eleven. 



Or a //on at Hutch ins' Grove. r^g 

I had no time xylien I was a girl 
My face to paint or my hair to curl, 
And that is the reason I am afraid, 
I stand here today a charming old maid. 
I sometimes think I am pensioned for life. 
Save all your pity for somebody's wife; 
"Here 1 remain" like John Alden you see, 
What will become of Priscilla and me. 

We welcome our friends from over the river; 

I will look to my bow and refill my quiver. 

And give them a broadside of love and good wishes, 

And hope they'll enjoy the loaves and the fishes; 

And not point to us as the Fourth they review. 

And say that the distance enchanted the view. 



Some one here may say I am spinning my theme 
Beyond a painter's or poet's dream; 
Others may say I am bungling my story, 
I'm not talking today for money or glory. 

This is the glorious Fourth of July, 

And sure on this day no good Christian would lie; 

Three cheers for the flag, now— hurrah, rah, rah, — 

long may it wave. 
And our homes long be free, our hearts all be brave. 

But I just want to tell you what I'd like to do 
To show you my good will through and through; 
You know that I love you in spite of your sins, 
Though you sometimes may feel I am hard on the 
shins; 



i6o Home Songs a7id CJinuiicles of t/ie Ellis. 

Why I'd just like to take you, with all of our Moun- 
tains, 

Our Rivers, our Falls, our Maine Law and Fountains, 

Why I'd just take you all to the Columbian Exposi- 
tion 

And pass you all in as a free Exhibition. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 

FAIR Autumn days, why must you hurry by? 
Is it to tell the time is drawing nigh 
For our dear old Thanksgiving Day 
'I'hat calls the children to their homes once more. 
From distant towns and states and foreign shore? 

How many eyes will turn to the fair East, 
And see again the bounteous Autumn feast 
Spread out on this Thanksgiving Day; 
Eyes that may never lingering look again 
Upon the dear old home and native plain? 

These dear old times we never can forget, 

Within the heart's deep well they linger yet, 

Sweet memories of Thanksgiving Day; 

And many fervent prayers arise today, 

God bless the dear old homes Thanksgiving Day. 



THE END. 



